Taken
by TheShoelessOne
Summary: Both Lisa and Jackson find that they are taken, in very different ways. She, taken to somewhere unknown. He, taken with her. LisaJackson. COMPLETE!
1. Visitation

Lisa had made sure to pack a small Swiss Army knife, any hairpins she could get her hands on, and a trusty pen, just in case. But she knew she wouldn't need them. They might even confiscate her "weapons" before she could get in there.

_Just in case. Just in case. Just in case._

She gripped tighter to the strap of her purse, heels clicking on the sterile tile and echoing off of the pure white walls. The halls were empty, soulless and cold. Her stride quickened, and her eyes fell to the small piece of paper she has scrawled directions on while on the phone. He had mumbled and coughed several times while relating every nuance of the long corridors to her, and, being as polite as she always was, she did not ask him to repeat anything. Not to mention she could hardly read her own handwriting. Her fingers had taken up a slight tremor every once and a while, ever since-

_Just in case._

Lisa glanced inside her purse quickly, just to assure herself that she was still armed. And if all else failed, she had worn her highest heels that day. They gave off a sharp report with every nervous step. The numbers above the doors filed off like a monotonous recording, passing without memory or care. 3034, 3036, 3038... Was she in the right wing? Brown eyes glanced from the chicken-scratch on the page to the shining tile of the floor to the bright florescent lights pock marking the ceiling. The number on the page looked like 3060, but it could have been 3666 or even, if turned a certain way, 8096. She cursed herself silently, then returned to her plodding.

A sound behind her caused the woman to throw herself against the wall, chest heaving, purse clutched to her breast. A custodian. He was wheeling his cleaning cart out of a room where the television was silently singing a song to a children's movie. She could get a glimpse of the screen before the door was shut. It was a skeleton in a black pinstripe suit. Lisa grimaced. What a terrible character for a children's movie. The custodian was beside her suddenly.

"Sorry, ma'am, did I scare you?" His voice was gravelly, much like his face, which had craters and whiskers like swaying grass in an asteroid field. Lisa blushed furiously. She was frightened too easily, ever since-

"No, no, I'm just a little jumpy today." She ran a shaking hand (damn, she was shaking again) through her curls and looked at the paper quickly. "I'm looking for a room-" She cut herself off, biting her lip and showing the man her directions. He pored over them for a short while, then handed them back to her.

"Looks like you want room 3066," he said calmly. It's just a bit farther down this hall." He paused, raised one graying brow, then continued: "A friend of yours, Miss?"

Lisa couldn't answer. She knew exactly what to say, but her throat dried up in an instant, and it was painful to breathe. Suddenly hot and frustrated, Lisa simply said a quick "thank you" and was on her way, continuing down the hall as she had been. Now the sounds of the custodian filled the hall, and it was a nice feeling, to know that one is not alone, no matter whom the company happens to be.

The room materialized after only a short walk. It was no different from any of the other rooms, which felt so wrong and terrifying to her. She couldn't make up her mind how to go about entering or even whether she should knock or not. Finally, after a long debate, she raised her knuckles to the door and rapped twice, quietly.

"Come in," came a new and unknown voice. Lisa took her purse-

_Just in case._

-and opened the door with a smooth glide. Inside smelled of cleaning fluid and metal, fresh sheets and man. She crinkled her nose slightly. There was another smell she couldn't identify, but it struck deep inside her and stayed there. The hospital bed was lying parallel to the window, and morning light poured into the sterile room. At the foot of the bed was a man who was obviously the doctor. He had a clipboard in his hairy fingers, a slight cough, and he was looking at her over thick-framed glasses.

"Lisa Reisert?" He asked, tapping the clipboard in his hand with the capped end of his pen. Lisa nodded, shooting her eyes from the doctor to the form in the hospital bed, half concealed by a curtain. A semi-private room. Not bad.

"Yes," was her curt reply. She seemed to have lost herself somewhere between speaking with the custodian and stepping over the threshold.

"I'm Dr. Lamb; we spoke on the phone earlier," he mumbled as he pushed his glasses up the bridge of his nose. So here was the mumbler. Lisa forced a smile over her taut lips, finding it hard to focus all of her attentions on the doctor. "I heard that you know a little something about our John Doe. Any information you might have would be-" He stopped for a cough, "-beneficial to the hospital as well as the care to this young man."

Lisa took a low, long breath, held her purse tightly, and slowly walked toward the bed. Her fingers curled around the off-white curtain.

_Like a band-aid. Do it quick, get it over with. You know who's behind there._

But she couldn't help the fear burning in her throat like bile, and she slowly pulled the curtain back to reveal the bed's prisoner. A respirator was working slowly beside the bed, and an IV or two were placed in the veins of its occupant. She recognized him immediately despite the bandages around his throat and chest, the respirator tube down his throat and the gaudy hospital gown draped over his thin body.

"His name is Jackson Rippner," she said quietly, not looking at the doctor. "One night ago, he had a man stationed outside of my father's house, ready to kill him if I didn't listen to Rippner's demands." Lisa felt herself relating everything about that flight, everything she knew about Jackson Rippner, to that balding Dr. Lamb who was either scribbling or writing her words on that clipboard. Before long, she was wiping tears away with Kleenex offered by the doctor, sitting in the chair beside Jackson's pillow. Her hand was inside her purse, clutched around the Swiss Army knife.

_Just in case._

But looking at him then, laying unconscious in some hospital without a name at the foot of his bed, she didn't feel fear anymore. What she felt was much more terrifying and surprising than she thought she'd feel.

Guilt.

_He_ was the one that had threatened her and her father._ He_ was the one that had attacked her and had almost succeeded in killing her. _He_ had pressed up against her in the airplane bathroom, breath thick on her neck, eyes a mere fraction of an inch-

She broke away from her thoughts, tearing her eyes from his prostrate form and blowing her nose quickly. She tossed the used Kleenex in the nearby waste bin. Dr. Lamb tapped his pen against his lips, pacing at the foot of Jackson's bed. The heart monitor blipped every second, counting them off in military fashion. Lisa blocked them out, humming any song she could think of. It happened to be the song she had heard coming from the child's movie, the one with the well-dressed skeleton. She didn't know the words, but the tune was catchy and it forced the beeping from her mind. She didn't realize that someone was humming with her until she stopped, not knowing any more of the song.

She gasped and leapt from her seat beside his bed. His bright blue eyes had suddenly opened and were staring leisurely at her. The respirator was gone from his mouth, and she could discern the raspy voice rattling from his punctured throat.

"And I, Jack, the Pumpkin King-"

Jackson smiled airily as he sung the line that Lisa had stopped humming on. The heart monitor began beeping faster. Dr. Lamb, seeing that his patient had suddenly ripped the respirator from his mouth, dashed forward and pushed Lisa out of the way. Lisa pressed herself against the wall, trembling, shaking fingers at her lips. The beeping steadily grew louder, and faster. She was vaguely aware of Dr. Lamb calling for more doctors. There were suddenly five more people in the room, crowding around the gaunt, thin man. But all she could see was his eyes, peering at her through the gap between two doctors. And all she could hear was his voice.

"Knew you'd come to see me die, Leese," he rasped. His voice was raspy, but calm, with that smile hidden deep within it. The heart monitor blared loudly into the room. "Knew you'd cry."

A long, loud tone shot through her. Flat line. She was hardly aware that the defibrillators had been carted out. Once, his body jumped as the heart-starting shock jolted through him. The low tone of the heart monitor soaked through the room. Twice, it was charged and again Jackson's body jumped, then went limp. They tried twice more before one of the doctors solemnly muttered, "Call it." Dr. Lamb looked at his watch.

"Jackson Rippner, dead as of 10:43 AM." He sighed, then looked for Lisa.

She was pressed against the wall, eyes wide, tears lining them. She had refused to let them fall. No matter how much guilt she felt, no matter the emotions that had spilled from her during her long talk with the doctor, Jackson's last words stung had her. She would not cry.

The other doctors milled about for a short while, filling out paperwork and using words Lisa didn't even pretend to understand. She nodded or shook her head to every question given to her. Slowly, the room emptied, leaving only Lisa and Dr. Lamb together in the room with the still body of Lisa's tormenter. She couldn't look at him. Dr. Lamb unattached all of the medical equipment with a slow monotony that comes with a repetitive job. Lisa washed her face in the restroom. When she returned, Dr. Lamb had pulled a sheet over Jackson's body. She stiffly refused to look at him.

"Finally get the damn boy an ID and he keels over," he grumbled. The clipboard was nowhere to be seen. Lisa looked at her feet. She felt rather useless and empty, and she didn't know why. She intended to find out.

"Could I-" She stopped, realizing what she was about to ask. Tears lined her voice, but her eyes stayed dry. "Could I have a moment alone with him?"

Dr. Lamb gave her a questioning look, but the look of resolve on her face made him shrug. He was used to the question, but from an abductee asking to see her captor? He had probably seen stranger things. He closed the door behind him, leaving Lisa and the sheeted Jackson alone. The halls outside were quiet, and she was glad. She set her purse down on the chair Dr. Lamb had been using and sat beside the bed on the chair she had formerly occupied. Her fingers were seized by tremors once again, but she fought through them, biting her lip and lifting her hand to the sheet covering his face. She just knew that his hand would fly up, gripping her wrist to stop her. But no such jolt came. She touched the soft fabric of the sheet, and pulled it slowly down to reveal his face.

He was calm, at peace; eyes closed as if in sleep. His skin was pale, paler than it had ever been. She had seen death before, but she had never imagined that Jackson Rippner would die with a smile. Something caught in her throat. Something barbed and hooked, something terrible and something venomous. She had to remove it before it killed her too.

She let out a long, agonized scream of rage. Tears spilled from her tightly shut eyes, no matter how hard she wanted to hold them back. A sob struck her chest, then another, violently surging through her whole body. She held one hand to her eyes, trying to keep them dry, while the other clutched the sheet in her hand. She couldn't stand the look of happiness on his face. She closed her eyes, wanting to stop the flood of unwonted and frightening tears. She should be glad. He deserved to die for what he almost did. Why couldn't she stop crying?

Her sob caught and turned into a gasp and frightened squeal when she opened her eyes a second time. Jackson Rippner was smiling up at her, devilish grin gracing his lips and smugness in his icy eyes. She fell off of her chair, and it fell to the ground beside her with a loud crash. Jackson propped himself up on one elbow, peering over the edge of the bed at her.

"Good morning, sweetheart," he said in a nearly normal voice. The bandages around his neck were peeled away with a quick flick of the wrist, revealing a deep red scar, which had been slowly healing. Lisa pushed herself against the wall, trying desperately to think. "You surprised me," he admitted, sounding as if he had a very large frog somewhere in his throat. That grin slanted across his face, seizing half of it and leaving the other nearly flat. "That was supposed to be a crack, about the crying."

Lisa mouthed the words she wanted to say, but couldn't find her voice. Jackson sat up fully in the bed as she did, looking disgustingly down at his sea-green hospital gown. He peered at her, keeping his tone light and conversational.

"Oh, Leese, could you walk over there and bring me my clothes?"

Lisa opened and closed her mouth like a fish. She had watched him die.

"You're dead," she muttered, frightened tears rolling down her cheeks. Jackson made a soft clicking noise with his tongue and leaned down again, gazing at her.

"When in certain professions, one learns how to fake many, many things, Leese." He rubbed his arm where the IVs had been and glanced keenly out the window from his sitting position. He snapped his head back to Lisa. "_Clothes_, please, Lisa." His voice had switched again. Cold, like his eyes, like his heart.

Her hand had dived into her purse, grabbing the first thing it came into contact with. The Swiss Army knife. She brandished it before him, practically lunging for him. His arm grabbed her wrist, just has she had imagined it would have. He snapped his wrist back, pulling her quickly and neatly into his lap. The knife clattered to the floor. He grinned down at her, showing his teeth.

"Now, Lisa," he said as if to scold a child, "here is what's going to happen. _You_ are going to go get my clothes and bring them to me like a good little girl._ I_ am going to get dressed quickly and quietly." He pressed her wrists into his bed as she struggled to leave his grip. "_We_ are going leave through _there_." He motioned to the window with his head, dark hair falling down into his eyes.

"Oh God," she whimpered, closing her eyes against the terror. She knew she should never have come.

"I warned you Lisa," he said with an edge to his voice. "I told you that I was going to steal you."

"I'm sorry," she said softly, one lonely tear dangling from her eyelashes. Jackson paused, shifted slightly under her. She was surprised to feel his thumb wiping that single tear off her cheek, and she opened her eyes, afraid and astonished. He wasn't smiling. It was a strange look in his eyes that she had seen only once. When he had seen her scar in the lavatory, he had that same mix of emotions on his face.

"Well," he said finally, "thanks for the sentiment." He let go of her wrists, taking her fallen Swiss knife in one hand. "You've cried a little more than enough today, I think. Now, go get my clothes."

* * *

AN: Okay, this was originally meant to be a one-shot, but I got carried away at the end and it looks like I'm gonna have a chapter fic. Unless no one reviews, then I'm just gonna leave it be. I think someone else was working on an idea similar to this, and if our stories are parallel, then I apologize profusely. I wanted to try my hand at the Red Eye fandom, for I am practically obsessed. We really need a section for this. ANYway, I hope everyone likes, and I'll be waiting to see what kind of feedback I get. Thanks in advance! 


	2. Transmigration

**Chapter Two: Transmigration**

He had locked her in the bathroom while he changed. She could hear the almost jovial humming coming from the man who had died not five minutes ago. She sat with her back against the door, hugging her knees to her chest. Her hands ran through her hair slowly, as if trying to get a bearing on reality. Her compass was spinning wildly, and there was no telling which way was north.

All this time, she was wondering where Dr. Lamb had vanished to. She surely didn't want him bursting in on the half-clothed man who he had declared dead at 10:43. She glanced at her new watch. 10:48. It felt like an hour had been dragged past, but it was hardly five minutes. She knew that Jackson would dispose of Dr. Lamb, or anyone else who happened to walk in unawares. And yet she wondered why no one had come yet to take the body, or to check on its visitor. She cupped her face in her hands, closing her eyes against the facts.

Fact: Jackson Rippner was not, in fact, dead.

Fact: Said man was currently dressing himself through hardly an inch of door.

Fact: She felt like she was going to be sick.

She waited for the nausea to pass, and after only a moment, the door was unlocked, and she felt the support behind her drop away. She looked up at Jackson, who was buttoning his collar close to his neck wound. She felt a stab of remorse, but also a strange sense of accomplishment. _I did that_ she though with a smugness that surprised her. He stared down at her with flattened features. His shirt still held the bloody bullet holes. He quickly covered them by buttoning his dark blazer.

"Have fun?" He asked. Lisa remained silent. Jackson shrugged and looked away to the window. "Fair enough." He seized her by the elbow and jerked her to her feet.

He led her to the window. She knew for a fact that Jackson's room was on the third floor, for she had ridden the elevator up at 10:27. She wasn't looking forward to whatever genius way Jackson had planned to leave through a third-story window. In taking her to the window, he nearly shoved her out through the force he used on her elbow.

"Ladies first," he muttered.

Lisa was given a little surprise to find a camouflaged ladder leaning precariously against the wall under his window. Jackson was leaning against the window frame, breath rattling, with a small smirk. She pulled a frown, glancing the Swiss Army knife in his hand. Lucky for her she had decided to sharpen all the blades before leaving to visit. Lisa levered one skirt-clad leg out the window -a sight that was not wasted on Jackson's clear eyes- then the other. He followed quickly in suit.

She peered around at her surroundings as she descended. They were in a small, walled courtyard. Many windows opened into the courtyard, but she noticed that every window had its curtains pulled shut or blinds in place. She realized that _this_ didn't surprise her. The climb was quick and painless for her, but she could hear the labored, hoarse breathing above her as Jackson followed her down the ladder. Perhaps the stab wound wasn't as healed as he thought it was.

As soon as her feet touched the soft grass, she pushed herself off into a run.

A hand caught her just below the shoulder, and the jolt and the pain caused her to lose her footing, knees scuffing in the fresh-cut grass. She looked up frantically, knowing Jackson couldn't have been that quick, to see a tall domineering man, with dark green eyes and a five o' clock shadow pronouncing his sharp chin. His lips were pulled tight in a sneer.

"How rude of me," Jackson said through a heavy breath as he touched down beside them. "Lisa, this is my associate." She recognized the face as one of the strangers from the chaos that had occurred in the room they had just left. Jackson continued. "He has a name, but I'm feeling it might be better if I don't mention it." He paused to breathe heavily, then smiled to cover up his momentary weakness. "For now, you can call him Dr. Jones."

"What, no whip?" Lisa muttered smarmily, her mind flashing a picture of young Harrison Ford as the famed archeologist. Jackson's grin pulled his lips taut across his cheeks, but his eyes froze to arctic ice.

"Mind out of the gutter, Leese," he bit back. Jones jerked Lisa to her feet by the elbow as Jackson began walking casually across the courtyard. Jones fell in beside him, leaning in close for whispered words that still reached Lisa's ears.

"I've secured an ambulance as well as a driver. I think I need to take another look at your throat." They were silent for a moment, then Jones began again. "We have a two-minute window. I've made sure of the rotation, and we won't be seen if we walk quick enough." They had reached the edge of the courtyard, where the green grass was violently severed by the asphalt of the parking lot, a black sea at calm. Jones glanced at his watch.

Lisa felt quick hands at her wrists, and looked over her shoulder to glimpse Jackson tying her hands together. He was using that bloodied crimson scarf he had used after she had stabbed him. She could practically taste the irony. He was whistling as he worked, glancing down at her with a thin smile.

"Wouldn't want to lose you, would I?" He asked, mainly to himself. The scarf was suddenly pulled tight against her skin, and her blood flow ceased in her fingers as he jerked the scarf into a knot. He leaned close over her shoulder, and she turned her face from him. His voice was thick and foggy at her cheek. "I also wouldn't try to run. You're in heels and my friend Dr. Jones does, in fact, carry a gun. He would make short work of you, I'm sure." She turned her face suddenly, in fear, toward his, meeting a cold smile and a short laugh. "No, no, not to kill you, dear little Lisa." He was close. Too close. "You and I haven't even had our fun yet."

"Let's go," Jones said, taking Lisa by the arm again. The three of them strode into the parking lot, Jackson slipping Lisa's arm into the crook of his own. How sweet they must have looked to a passerby; three siblings, perhaps, come to visit their sick mother. All three looked sober and serious. Perhaps their mother had died. Cancer, maybe, or a heart attack. Jackson's stride, however, was proud, almost holding a bounce to it.

_He has his catch_, Lisa thought, fighting against the frightened sob that wanted to burst through her. She saw an elderly woman puttering around a red Mercedes, and was tempted to cry out for help. But she remembered the woman on the plane who had almost intercepted the note in her book, how Jackson had intercepted that message. She didn't want anyone like that woman to get involved this time. So far, it seemed as if the only one in immediate danger was Lisa herself, and she was hoping to keep it that way. She had escaped him once.

But he'd cheated death. How was she supposed to compete with that?

"Faster," Jones urged, practically dragging Lisa along. She didn't resist. It would have been very stupid of her, and she was not known for being a stupid girl. Jackson resisted Jones's tug.

"Nonchalant," he said with raised eyebrows. Lisa had a feeling he was also worrying about his breathing. They made it to the ambulance within Jones's time limit, and Jones opened the back to shove Lisa inside. Jackson climbed in after her, followed by Dr. Jones himself. The taller man rapped on the door separating the back from the driver's seat, and the vehicle rumbled to life beneath them. They were soon moving. Lisa wasn't surprised to see that the windows had been covered.

"Sit," she heard Jackson's voice from below. He was sitting on the plastic cushions on the single bench. The rest of the floor space was for gurneys. She stood, holding onto the low roof for support. "I suggest sitting your pretty self in this vacant seat-" He patted the seat beside him, arm draped over the back. "-or on the floor. It's a little harder and colder down there," he added with that grin that she had learned so well.

She chose the floor. Her eyes were at her feet, or she would have noticed the change in those ice-hued eyes. Silence filled the ambulance as Dr. Jones probed Jackson's neck wound, finding medical supplies stocked in the locked cabinets lining one wall of the truck. He applied fresh gauze and a strange-smelling ointment to Jackson's neck, then taped it into place with a satisfied sigh. As soon as the bandages were applied, Jones stood and stepped through the door leading to the cab, closing it behind him.

She hated the silence. She felt nauseous again.

"It's more than a little pathetic," Jackson said through a sigh as he stretched his legs out before him, "that I can't even drive myself anywhere." He was trying to start casual conversation with the woman that had tried to kill him, the woman he had tried to kill. She finally allowed herself to look up.

"You were dead not too long ago," she said as calmly as she could. "You were shot twice and stabbed in the neck. It's a wonder you can walk across the parking lot."

"Is that concern I hear?" Jackson asked, leaning forward with his elbows perched neatly on his knees.

"You should be dead," Lisa muttered, not answering his question. "Your heart monitor-"

"Dear Lisa," he awed, "you surely don't think that I'm capable of stopping my own heart? Hold my breath and slow my pulse, yes, but _stop_ my pulse?" He nodded his head toward the cab. "That is where my esteemed friend Dr. Jones comes in handy, besides bullying my kidnapees." He allowed himself to revel in Lisa's pouting face at this remark. "I don't ask what he does. As long as Jackson Rippner is dead by all appearances -and the flat line was a nice touch, don't you think?- then he's done his job."

Lisa shook her head. Jackson continued.

"It was so nice of you to come and identify me." She felt his eyes following the curls of her hair. "Amazing where some of my people are stationed, isn't it? A hopeless rookie cop losing all of the crime-scene reports, your testimony, all mysteriously lost in an incinerator far, far away. And now those papers, signed and re-signed, proving my death. Now, I could either let them be and assume a new name-"

"Jack?" Lisa shot scathingly. Jackson cracked his neck irritably in the following silence.

"Or I could have them taken care of as well. It's easier to eliminate a paper trail and a few select persons to find a new identity." He tapped his fingers in a tattoo against the back of the seat. "I think I'll have you choose, Lisa, since it was you that brought me to this nice situation."

Lisa sat in silence, listening to the sounds around the ambulance. They bounced through a pothole.

"How many people would you have to kill?" She spoke softly, and Jackson crossed his legs at the ankle as he spread them with his hands behind his head.

"You like my name that much, Leese?" He was cocky, and she knew he loved it. "All right, then. Jackson Rippner remains Jackson Rippner. But what about poor little lost Lisa? How much will everyone miss her?" Lisa's eyes shot to his, malice behind both pairs. "Dear old Dad, of course, would shill out every cent to save his little girl."

"Stop it." She tried to sound intimidating, but her voice came out quavering.

"Mom, well... Mom's been dipping into the sauce since Grandma Henrietta took the big plunge and won't realize you're missing until it makes the national papers. Which it might not, Leese."

Lisa stood suddenly, almost losing her footing as the vehicle hit a bump. She knew she couldn't escape from the moving ambulance, and to do so would be stupid of her. But she had to do something of protest.

"If you're going to kill me, get it over with!" The voice from her mouth didn't sound like hers, but she had said it. Had she meant it?

Jackson looked up somberly, then stood to match her. He dwarfed her by a few inches, and his head scraped the low roof. Like a cobra and its meal, Lisa couldn't keep her eyes from those of her captor as he swayed lightly with the movement of the ambulance under his feet. One long, thin finger tilted her chin up to face him.

"You're important to some people," he said slowly, like to a young child learning something for the first time. "A lot of them are willing to do something to make sure you're safe." His thumb joined his finger on her chin, holding it softly, but she still felt unable to release herself from that grip. "Do you think I'm that kind of person?"

Was it a question? She couldn't remember. Was he asking her or someone else?

He smiled.

"Sit," he said again.

This time, she took the seat. Jackson sprawled himself out on the cold floor and slept.

* * *

AN: Wow! I had no idea I'd get such a response! People like me Well, I love all of you, too! Everyone who review, I love you. You are all recieving imaginary e-cookies from me at this moment. Check your imaginary e-cookie-mailbox. They're there. Trust me. Now, for some shout-outs!

**The Logical Ghost:** I was going to end it with Jackson dying, but it felt like I had to go on. My writer's instinct egging me on, saying, "C'mon, he's too hot to die." I'm glad you like it despite that flaw. And I hope that the new chapter is good enough to keep you for more. I loved getting your feedback, and it made me want to write better.

**No One Mourns the Wicked:** That's a long name... Can I call you Ashley? Anyway, me being such a big fan of "Conditional" led me to squeal with joy when you gave me your wonderful review. I love that you loved it! Your joy makes me joyful! And do not cry, for the next chappie is here! Oh, and if you haven't found out who Hugh Laurie is yet, check him out on I hope this chapter cleared up a few things concerning his "death" and all that good stuff. Huzzah for suspension of disbelief! Thanks for the fave and for the love! I love the love. I hope this chappie meets expectations.

**silentsister**: I love literary devices. Especially repitition. Ah, it never lets me down. Ask any of my friends: I use it waaaay too often. As for the fake-out, it wasn't originally gonna be a fake-out, but really was going to die. But at the end I felt I wrote myself into a corner, and suddenly -gasp!- he's alive! At least, that's what it felt like to me. Glad you loved it! Check for e-cookies!

**Asanji:** Nightmare Before Christmas is my absolutely favorite "cartoon." And I soo had to add it somehow. I guess I thought Jack and Jackson... yeah. Jack is awesome, Jackson is hot. It's all about the same. I've never been anyone's hero before. -blushblush-

**A.R. Bellance:** Hope this chapter clarifies some of your questions. I wrote a lot of it just for you. If you have anything else you need answered or any constructive critisism, feel free to tell me anything. I'm open about things like that.

**Puck the Faerie:** As much as I love him, it really wouldn't have worked as a Jackson story. Thanks for the complimet and the reviw: I cherish them like chestnuts. Though that probably doesn't make any sense.

**Eccentric Banshee:** Congrats on being the first review! -throws a party- I know how you feel about guys like Jackson. I was totally sucked in as well. It would have been hard to keep me off of him the entire flight. I also loved that line, the crack about crying. I tried to make Jackson a bit of a snarky bastard in this one... In a good way. Har har... I hope you like the new chapter! Love!


	3. Indication

**Chapter Three: Indication**

The drive went on. It was another strange lapse in time, where she felt as if she had been sitting for slow hours, but when glancing at Jackson's watch (for she couldn't see her own), she saw that 15 minutes, 20 minutes, 25 minutes had passed. Despite the early hour, she felt sleep pressing on her eyelids. She hadn't slept well since the incident, and the events of the morning had worn her to nothing. She watched Jackson's chest rise and fall in peaceful sleep with envy as his head rested by her modestly crossed legs.

It would have been so easy to simply take her long-heeled shoes and shove them through his neck. He might struggle for a moment or so, but his life would leave him with one more well-placed stomp. He had taken her, and he would feel remorse for it. He had suggested that she meant for him to kill those innocent people at the hospital, and he would feel her true meaning. She readied herself mentally, but she felt something holding her back.

The humanitarian in her felt that to kill a sleeping man would be no better than Jackson himself. She couldn't sink to being a murderess.

He hadn't tried to kill her yet, and that may have meant he didn't intend to harm her at all.

He might not even be asleep, simply waiting for her to try something as foolish as she was thinking. He'd have her then.

And that look in his eyes.

_Do you think I'm that kind of person?_

She honestly didn't know what to think. His words had been so vague, so quiet, she wasn't even sure if she had heard them. What could he have possibly have meant by them? What could he want with her now?

Her thoughts slowly spiraled downwards, sand from an hourglass. She needed sleep, but knew that if she dropped her guard, Jackson was free to do whatever he wished to her. Despite any thought in her mind spurring her to resist, her head fell forward until her chin rested on her chest and her eyes fluttered minutely. There was a stirring at her feet that she was aware of on the edges of her consciousness, but the soft rumbling of the engine under her and the warm air around her brought languidness to her limbs.

"You're not one of those girls that needs to be _sung_ to, are you?" Jackson's words drifted from the floor, annoyance biting like frost on the edge of his voice. Lisa blinked once, twice, and her vision doubled, then righted itself. He was still lying on the floor at her feet, but his hands were behind his head, staring with closed eyes at the ceiling. She could hear his every breath.

"No," she said finally. It took her a long time to respond to her own prompt. "I'm not used to falling asleep with a murderer at my feet."

Jackson propped himself up on one elbow, peering lazily up at her. She averted her eyes to her own lap.

"I'd hunker down, if I were you. We have a long drive ahead of us." A grin. He could feel her uneasiness as if it hung in the air around them. "How's this? You resist the urge of trying to kill me, and I make sure not one hair on that beautiful head gets touched by me or anyone else. Sound fair? Do I need to draw up a contract? I'm sure I could get Jones to be a witness."

Lisa still could not look up. She knew that he was watching her and her wariness was satisfying to him. This steeled her, and her eyes shot to his.

"'Anyone else'? Just where are we going?"

"Tut, tut, Lisa," Jackson pushed himself to a sitting position, leaning his arm and head neatly on the seat beside her. "A magician never reveals his secrets, you know. But we _will_ be having company. I'm so glad you've dressed accordingly." She looked away with a chill as his eyes swept up and down her figure. She felt his unsettling gaze rest on her neck. "So, how about our deal?" With as much nerve as she could collect, she turned to him again.

"I won't agree to anything until I know what's going on."

"Bold words coming from a woman at my mercy." He flicked the wrist lying near her on the seat, and her Swiss Army knife was suddenly before her. He watched the longest blade emerge from the innards, then flicked his eyes to Lisa's. "Information doesn't come without a price. That's the way things work here, Leese."

Lisa closed her eyes. God only knew what he'd ask for. There were only so many things in the back of the ambulance. She could feel the tears want to come. It was that day again: she could feel the scar on her chest throbbing under her shirt. Jackson's grin was faint and amused, flicking the blade in and out again and again.

"What-" She checked herself, opening her eyes, bringing strength back into her thin voice. "What do you want?"

The grin stayed on his lips, and he pulled himself to his knees, now eye-level with Lisa. She closed her eyes, her mind flying with fear, wishing she had never gotten that phone call from Dr. Lamb, wishing that she had stayed in bed that morning, praying to God. Tears again. Then a cold hand on her cheek. She gave a whimper, shutting her eyes tighter against the eyes she knew she'd see if she opened them.

"I want you," Jackson's voice began, pausing for effect with a smirk, "to go to sleep. You're no use to me exhausted." His hand was removed, and he stood from in front of her. The ambulance struck a pothole, and Jackson nearly toppled to the left, but he righted himself quickly.

Lisa allowed herself to open her weary eyes, looking at her feet. Her hands were shaking as they were tied behind her back. She let loose a shaking breath, letting her cheeks feel a few more tears that she had hoped to hide. Jackson was standing beside her again, something draped over his left arm.

"I hate when women cry," he muttered.

He tossed her the bundle from his arm, and she let it hit her lap. It was a clean white sheet, probably stored in the ambulance for patients. It smelled fresh and clean, and helped to calm her shot nerves. The seat shook as Jackson plopped himself down next to her with a thump. She looked appallingly at him. He merely shrugged.

"My terms, Leese. You lay yourself down for a nice rest and I tell you whatever you want me to tell you." He held a pillow before her, then set it on his lap. Her head was throbbing, begging for sleep, but she managed to glare menacingly at him.

"You're a bastard."

"You know, a lot of people tell me that." He patted the pillow. "Nighty-night, Lisa."

She continued to glare. He raised his eyebrows. The engine grumbled for the both of them.

Grudgingly, revulsion in her eyes and hate red on her face, she lowered her head onto the pillow, the down incasing her ear and face staring away from her captor. He draped the sheet over her, the tips of her toes peeking out from underneath. Jackson tucked one curl behind her ear, then started talking.

"I am taking you to a facility," he began, speaking clearly into her exposed ear. "I can't disclose its location- just in case, Lisa- but what I can tell you is that Dr. Jones and I won't be the only people there to greet you. I've told _all_ of my good friends about you." She was listening intently, eyes shut as if trying to forget her position. "They, like Dr. Jones, belong to the same organization I am involved with. Not all of them work for me, but a fair few will follow my orders if I give them. We will probably have to change vehicles somewhere down the road. No doubt someone will have noticed that you and I are missing by now."

"Dr. Lamb will know everything," Lisa muttered. "I told him everything about you. He knows who you are, and he'll-"

"Shh, shhh," Jackson whispered condescendingly, brushing his fingers over her shoulder. She jerked it away from his grasp. "Your dear Dr. Lamb won't be telling anyone much of anything, I think. However, there were a few more doctors in that room who will undoubtedly miss us. They, of course, would get the police, who would find that an ambulance has gone missing." There was a pause. She was slowly drifting off. "Don't worry, Leese. I've thought of everything."

She wanted to come back with a witty retort, but her mind was shutting down. The blanket was so warm, the pillow soft, and Jackson's voice droning in a strangely calm placidness. She wanted to shout at him for doing all of this to her. But she could hardly manage one simple sentence.

"I hate you," she mumbled.

Jackson was quiet, and the world darkened around her. His fingers were absently twirling her hair. His words were the last she heard before sleep dragged her from the world.

"I know."

The world jerked, and she lazily opened her eyes. What was happening? Her alarm didn't go off. Was she late for work? Cynthia would have tried to call her. With a short groan, she tried to grope for the covers.

It took her a full 30 seconds to grasp why she couldn't move her arms. Her breath came in short gasps, and she looked up to see the ghostly blue eyes hovering over her. The arms encompassed her, and she heard footsteps crunching on gravel. The eyes glanced down, and a grin spread almost from ear to ear.

"'Morning, star shine."

She broke down into sobs. A hand was placed over her mouth, and she felt an animal urge to bite it in her defense. But she decided against it, feeling the retribution for such an act would be worse. She had dealt with Jackson Rippner before, and had a feeling that he had learned as much from the experience as she had. She suddenly realized that she was shoeless.

The sound of car doors opening signified that they were indeed changing vehicles. Jackson relinquished her into the backseat, leaning across her, purposefully taking his time as he pulled her seatbelt across her chest.

"Buckle up for safety," he said through a grin.

She kneed him in the groin.

He fell to his knees outside of the car door, coughing and sucking in tight breaths. Jones was beside him, but he growled something low and harsh at the man. Lisa would have made a break for it if the belt hadn't already been pulled tightly across her and her hands were still secure behind her back. Jackson's hand was suddenly on the car door, levering himself to his feet. The look in his eyes was murderous. It was that same crazed look as he had chased her through the terminal.

A hot stinging slap fell across her cheek. She had been expecting worse. She looked glaringly up at Jackson as he heaved in her doorway, staring death at her.

"Whatever happened," she breathed through a misty voice, "to not a hair being touched?"

He didn't smile.

"One good turn deserves another," he growled. He slammed her door, then turned on heel to sit beside Jones, who was settling into the driver's seat. Before he attached his own seatbelt, he turned his head to continue their conversation. "Remember, so long as you refrain from bodily harm on my part, I keep up my side. I never go back on a promise, Lisa, as long as I don't get the short end of the deal." His eyes narrowed to thin slits. "Got that?"

Lisa made no effort to reply.

Jackson remained silent as well as leaned into the back seat to tie a blindfold around Lisa's eyes. She didn't struggle.

"That's right," he growled, close to her ear. "Everything will be so much easier in the end if you just do as you're told." Lisa waited for a long moment before speaking.

"You didn't tell me why you thought it might be a good idea to kidnap me."

"If I remember correctly," he said as his seatbelt clicked into place. "You fell asleep." If Lisa had been able to see, she would have seen Jones gave a short look, as if wondering 'what went on back there?' He then put the car into reverse, and they took off.

The ride was silent. No whispered conversations, no snarky remarks, and hardly any movement at all. Now that she couldn't see her watch, she had no concept of time. They could have driven all day and through the night for all she knew. At one point, she had tried to remove the blindfold by grazing it against her shoulder, but it was followed by a loud "ahem" from Jackson. After that, she ceased all activity.

It was only a matter of time before the car slowed to a halt. She heard Jackson whisper, "Make sure we're clear," to Jones, who quickly left the car. Jackson leaned through to unbuckle her seatbelt. He remained close, as if inspecting her.

"You've been awfully quiet back here," he muttered. "Plotting my demise over and over again in your mind?"

"I can't change anything by trying to talk to you," she murmured, more for herself than for him. She heard a soft sigh of a laugh.

"Smart girl."

"All right, we're clear." It was Jones. Jackson's door opened, then hers. She was pulled from the car by Jackson's hands- they were softer than Jones's, as if the younger man hadn't worked a day of hard labor in his life. He held her painfully close.

"Get the door," he ordered Jones.

She heard it open. It was metal, and it slid open, rumbling through her. The vague lights dimmed as Jackson guided her inside. Jones pulled the door shut again, and she heard a large locking mechanism click heavily into place. Jackson's hand began working at the knot on her blindfold. Light was slipping steadily into her vision.

"Lisa," he cooed into her ear, "welcome to my warehouse."

He whipped off the blindfold.

* * *

AN: Ah! I love everyone! Oh, there's a teeny-tiny reference in this chapter that is so esoteric it's almost an inside joke. My sister and I get it, and I'll give a real cookie to anyone who can guess what it is. God, I don't even know if anyone would think it's funny even if they knew what it was. But anyway... This is probably the best responce I've ever had for any story I've ever written ever! Ah! Love! Y'all deserve e-pizzas! Many thanks to everyone who reviewed my little project, I give a hug to every one of you. Now, for a few shout-outs:

**Roony:** I'm so glad you reviewed- and liked it!- even though you don't approve of Lisa/Jackson. Your review made me smile, to know I can cater to those who don't like the 'ship by just writing. -drinks Seabreeze-

**A.R. Bellance:** Yay! I manged to make sense! It's hard for me to do that in real life, let alone a serious story like this! I am so glad you enjoyed it, because (upon viewing your profile) I learned that you grade hard. It gives me great joy to know you like something I do. And Dr. Jones- I tried to write so little of him because I want to focuse on Jackson and Lisa. I basically used him for the Indiana Jones crack and left him as lackey for the rest. Thanks for the review! I love you!

**SpadesJade:** Damn! I knew I forgot something!That damnable scarf! Well, thank you for pointing out my mistakes. It keeps me from making bigger ones in the future. -grin- I hope I didn't slip up with the scarf or the blindfold in this chapter. Let me know. Also, I hope it was a little clearer that Lisa didn't _want_ the people to be killed, it's just the way Jackson took her question. -shrug- Oh well. I'm not that great... Thanks for the review!

**LadyTavington076:** Ah! Thank you so muchly! I'm glad that one of my stories actually manages to get fans, and I'm glad that you enjoy it so much. Have an e-pizza: they come in many flavors! I hope you like this chapter as much as you liked the previous ones. Much love!

**Asanji:** I'm _wearing_ the Pumpkin King... on my jammie pants. Don't worry- you made sense. I'm glad I managed to clear things up a little. It didn't make sense as I wrote it the first time, so I myself was confused a bit. Huzzah, another fave! I'm glad I can make your day, and I hope this chappie was up to expectations. Happy reading, and much thanks!

**Chanel86: **I loooove writing smug!Jackson. I don't know why it's so easy for me. He gets kinda snarky and evil in this chappie, but for good reason, I think. He can't be nice all the time... Bipolar! Anyway, thanks for reviewing. Every review warms my heart. -grin- Hope the new chappie brings some insight. But not all of it. Then where would I be? Love and e-pizza to you!

**silentsister: **I was hoping to make his intent a little ambiguous, so no one really knows what's going on in that little mind of his. This one, he was a little more straightforward, and facts come at a slower rate of speed. I'm trying to keep the readers on the same level as Lisa. Never knowing enough, wanting a little more. It's a little risky and might make people hate me. But I'm glad you've decided to hang around. Oh, and congrats on the first review for Ch.2! -throws party!- More e-pizza?

Stay tuned for Ch.4, which should be up during the 3-Day weekend. If not, I apologize. My love to all who reviewed, even those that didn't get shoutouts. Thanks to everyone!


	4. Realization

**Chapter Four: Realization**

The first thing that hit her was the smell. Musty, dusty, like old furniture in an abandoned house. Mildew and wetness also crept into her senses. Then there was the warm feeling of bodies surrounding her. As soon as Jackson revealed her surroundings to her, she instinctively stepped back into him and away from the new, frightening faces. Jackson laid his hands gingerly on her shoulders.

There were at least 10 that she could see. Most of them were men, but she discerned two women among them. All of them were tall, at least as tall as Jackson, and the women were at least her height. All were dressed as crisply as Jackson and Jones were. Every eye was upon her, every one of them boring into her. She had never felt gazes so heavy, so judgmental, heat coming from their stares and burning her flesh.

"Gentlemen," Jackson said, "ladies, this is Lisa Reisert. I believe you remember her?" There were a few nods, and one man in front of her smirked. "You got my call, I assume?" More nods. They were a quiet bunch. "Well, then, you have it set up?" Lisa's heart began to beat faster. _What_ was set up?

"Yes," said one man. It was the smirking man. "To specifications."

"You take her," Jackson muttered. Lisa could feel his rasping breath on her hair. "I'll be with you in a minute." One hand was lifted from her shoulder to indicate his bandaged wound.

The smiling man grabbed Lisa's upper arm with a grip that made her gasp. Jackson's hand flew out and clutched the man's wrist until the grip loosened on Lisa's arm. Lisa let out a shuddering breath. Jackson's voice was dangerously low, icy, as it fluttered though her curls.

"If I find a mark on her, I'll castrate you with a rusty knife," Jackson hissed. The man stared with narrowed eyes at him, then took Lisa's arm in a much softer grip.

"Come on," he growled, not taking his eyes off of Jackson. He then turned and took Lisa off into the sprawling warehouse. She glanced minutely back as she was dragged off, catching a glimpse of his unnaturally blue eyes following her. Jones was beside him, inspecting the wound, but Jackson never looked away. She was wracked with a long chill.

The tall grinning man- who, incidentally, was no longer in the mood for grinning- pulled Lisa along after him. She looked around, trying to get a bearing on her location. All of the long low windows were boarded up. The walls were concrete slabs, smooth and flat, and there was obviously a second floor as the ceiling was rather low for a warehouse. Small rooms stood in blocks off of the main "corridor", and ancient yellow construction equipment lay like dusty bones in a museum. Objects were covered in old tattered tarps, which rustled lightly as if in a breeze. Lights hung above them, shaded minimally and throwing harsh shadows into corners. It threw a dark shadow on the tall man's lower face, his chin sharp and eyes sunk far back into his face. He glanced down at her, scrutinizing her.

"You're a skinny little bitch, aren't you?"

Lisa bit her lip. It was one thing to whip out witty retorts to Jackson, who she had dealt with. She didn't dare push her luck with this man.

They came to a rickety wooden stairway, reinforced with steel beams with thick rivets. It wound up to the second floor, which was just as drab and dusty as the first floor. She had the feeling that, even though Jackson referred to it as _his warehouse_, he didn't visit often. It wasn't long until they stopped in front of one of the rooms. It looked like this floor had been home to rows of small offices in its time. Rusted brass numbers still hung on the wooden door, whose paneling was beginning to peel.

13.

Ironic, or Jackson's idea of a good laugh?

The man stuck a key into the lock, and it clicked agonizingly, as if with its last breath. Inside, where she had been expecting a small office complete with desk and pencil sharpener, there was a small mattress adorned with new sheets and a fresh pillow. A tiny table had been erected beside the bed, and it held a tray of food along with a glass of water. The man shoved her inside, where she stumbled and fell onto the bed. The light outside of the door allowed only a dark silhouette to be shown, but he was leaning casually on the doorframe.

"I don't care what Rippner says," he started, as if to himself and not the bound girl on the bed. "You might be a skinny bitch, but I like 'em skinny." Lisa's eyes widened in fright. She pulled her knees up to her chest and began to frantically try to undo the knot behind her back. The man stepped into the door, and closed it behind him. There was only a single, hanging exposed bulb in the room. He began to unbutton his blazer.

_No, no, no_, she thought to herself, crazed thought boiling in her head. She had loosened one of the knots, but fear began to take hold. Her fingers were shaking again. A sudden sag on the other end of the bed caused her to shriek. She planted one foot firmly on the man's chest and shoved him back. He tumbled to the floor. When he got back to full height, his lip was bleeding.

"All right, you wanna do this the heard way, eh?"

He was back on the bed, springs groaning under their combined weight. She lashed out with her foot again, managing to hold him at bay until the first knot was undone. He then pushed himself past her foot and pinned both of her legs down with his knees. She hadn't noticed that tears were running down her face. She screamed again. The man clapped a hand over her mouth.

"Wouldn't want an interruption," he mumbled. She struggled with the second knot. It was tighter than the first, and her fingers and wrists ached. With all her strength, she brought her forehead to meet his, and they crashed with a resounding thunk. She regained the use of her legs and kicked him in the stomach. As he redoubled from the pain, she tried the knot furiously. Why wouldn't it come loose?

A knee was in her stomach, and she was forced flat on her back. The hand was over her mouth, and the other at her throat. She screamed against the flat of his hand, and the muted sound echoed in her ears. She thrashed her legs, but to no avail. Her hands were squashed into the mattress and no amount of wriggling would free them. A dark sob choked through her. The face was close to hers, and she tried to move her head. He jerked it back. A knife was suddenly in his hand, the one that had been holding her throat.

_He held a knife to my throat the whole time._

The world went dead around her. Now it was just Lisa, the man, and her fear. The knife danced before her eyes, then settled onto her cheek. Blood trickled from the cut and down her chin like a long scarlet tear.

"I'm gonna let go of your mouth, and if you scream, I cut through your pretty little neck." He took his hand from her mouth.

She screamed.

The knife pressed harder into the flesh of her cheek just as light flooded to room. The darkness around them shattered with a loud report. There was a smoking bullet hole in the wall above her head.

"Oh, Gerard," came an almost singsong voice.

The man shot up and faced the door, allowing Lisa to pull herself out from under him and sit with her back up against the wall.

Another loud gunshot and the man fell backwards onto the bed where Lisa had been. There was a bleeding would in his shoulder. A dark form stood over him, gun pointed down at his chest.

"Keep your hands _off_."

The last icy word was followed by a final shot. Blood spattered across Lisa's horrified face and the walls surrounding her.

Jackson looked up from the dead man, not with remorse or pity, but of accomplishment. He holstered his gun, then rolled the man off of Lisa's bed. He looked toward Lisa, who had shrunk against the wall, knees to her chest. He slowed, then knelt down on the bed beside her.

"Don't," she managed, a shred of her voice peeking through the tears. He surveyed her face, then reached into his pocket for a small white handkerchief. He placed it over his thumb, and began to wipe the blood from her face. She closed her eyes, letting herself cry. Neither of them said anything, and both of them knew that was best. He finished cleaning her blood- and that of the dead man- from her, then tossed the handkerchief over his shoulder.

"Did he-"

"No," she answered quickly, not looking at him. He stayed for only one more moment, then lifted himself off of the bed. The springs squeaked in protest. He grabbed the man by both of his arms and began dragging him out into the hall. She stared at he exposed knees. She heard Jackson drag the body down the hall until she lost track of his footsteps. Slowly, as if not caring whether she did or not, she tried to untie the last knot. She was surprised how easily it yielded to her. She unthreaded the scarf from her wrists, then took it in her hands and stared at it.

"I can get you a new room," Jackson said from the doorway. She looked up with a slow placidness that concerned both of them. "You probably wouldn't sleep well in here."

"I probably won't sleep," she added.

Silence. She could still feel the man's heaviness pressing against her, and it melded with that day in the parking lot. She held her hands up to her eyes, still holding the scarf, and cried.

When he sat down beside her, she only cried more. When he pulled her into him, she only let more tears fall. One hand smoothed her hair. Her body shook, from fear, from hate, from the sobbing. Her hands were shaking. And slowly, her sobs died. Before the moment was broken, she whispered from her position, head buried in his chest.

"Thank you."

Jackson didn't answer for a long while.

"He asked for it," was all he could come up with. He sat up rather abruptly, straightening his collar and standing in the doorway. "Jones will see about getting everything made up in a different room. Until then, you can use mine."

Lisa looked up sharply. The moment was gone.

"So you can seduce me, too?"

Jackson's lips were pulled thin.

"No," he answered, quite tartly. "If I'd wanted to do that, I'd have done it a long time ago. It's not my thing." He stared obviously at her. "If you don't follow me, I'm going to have to tie you up again Lisa."

She considered running. Where to? Who knows how many of his associates were hiding downstairs? She had only seen one exit, and she didn't have the key. She stood, and followed closely behind him. He held onto her wrist, leisurely, and directed her farther down the hall. The stopped in front of a door that was in much better condition than hers had been. He unlocked it with a different key, and placed her inside.

"I have the only key to this room," he said, brandishing it like a weapon. "No one goes in or out without me saying so. Get comfortable." He closed the door and locked it again from the outside.

Lisa surveyed the room. It was larger, and furnished like an actual bedroom. A real bed, real dresser and side table. There was, however, no telephone or evidence that there had ever been one. She sat herself heavily on the edge of the bed, running her hand along her cheek, trying to find where the knife had cut into her. Her fingertips grazed an unusual texture.

She stood up and looked around for a mirror. She found one on the dresser. She picked it up and surveyed her face. Jackson had placed a large bandage across her cut.

For no good reason, she started to cry again.

* * *

AN: Okay, so this is my shortest chapter. Hardly over 2,000 words. That's short. cry But I got everything said that I wanted to say. And I give a huge THANK YOU! to everyone who reviewed. I love everyone! Yaay! But now, for some special announcements:

**Ayumi Omoide: **Wow... I don't think I've ever been as flattered by a review as I have been by this one. You leave me with nothing to say other than I cherish you as a fan, reviewer and kind person. You, too, are amazing because of all that you have said to me. I don't think I can come up with a response to say exactly how I feel about your review. I'm updating extra fast for you. Thank you, thank you, _thank you_ for your kind words and encouragement. It's people like you that help me go on. THANK YOU!

**Roony:** Oh, man, I am so glad you're hooked! I mean... Well... Thank you for being hooked! Man, anyway I phrase it, it doesn't sound right. But I love your reviews because you're a bit like an unbiased party, not liking L/J at all. I'm hoping that this plot is simplistic and stuff (oh, what wonderful vocabulary I have) and I hope it's still good enough to keep you reading. Thanks for the review!

**Bimefl:** Y'know, I hadn't realized that was a reference until you said it! I guess I have more references in here than I thought. Most too subtle for even me to catch. And, while Han Solo was a jerk most of the time, he was handsome. bwahaha. I'm sorry that the warehouse wasn't all interesting and stuff, but I thought he might like to stay inconspicuous. And thanks so much for the compliments! I'll keep writing if you wish it to be soooo!

**Maeggy:** -whistles nonchalantly- I have no idea what your talking about. Of course that isn't a major plot point. Yep... I mean nope... uhhh... -DASH!- Thanks for your review! It made me giggle.

**ellina HOPE:** Ah! More refernces that I didn't catch! Wow, you guys are good at this. I should give everyone who guessed an e-cookie anyway. I loved having Jackson make her sleep on his lap. It just felt so... Jackson. I'm glad you liked it too. And I just _had_ to have the Pumpkin King in there. He is mighty. Love right ack at ya! Thankee!

**signsfan:** Wasn't it, though? -sigh- It was hot, yes indeed. It's harder to write that stuff than it is to read it, I think. You're thinking, "Oh crap, if I do this wrong I'll be killed for sure," but then you manage to pull it off, and everyone says, "That was hot." It brings joy to me heart. Thanks for all your reviews!

**SpadesJade: **Yess! No more scarf/blindfold mishaps! Unless I made some in this chapter! Crappy Crap McCrapperson! Now I'll have to be in anticipation to see if I did! I hope something of Jackson's intentions is made a liittle clearer in this chapter. But if it's not, the chapter title(s) might help a bit. Thank you for your awesome comments!

**Chanel86:** She might be shoeless for another reason, but I thought, what the hey, my name is shoeless, why can't she be? The main reaosn I wanted to write this fic is because of the subtle attraction (ALMOST love and A LOT of hate) between the two of them. So strong and so obvious... I just had to do something. I'm glad you like it, and glad it meets expectations. Hope I can keep it up for you!

**Asanji:** Y'know, I wondered that too. It was so very obvious a choice for me. Maybe it was because she was on a plane and confined space and whatnot. Oh well. Oh, and congrats on being the first review of Ch.3! Huzzah! -throws yet another party- I'm running out of e-food... Here's hoping I can keep the boulder rolling with this...

Aaaand the esoteric reference was... -drumroll- from an animated version of David Copperfield in the early '90's that was my favorite when I was a kid. It's a line from a song when David has to work at his step-dad's factory. And the line? "Welcome to my warehouse!" Oh, and they were all animals by the way. Really freaky when I watch it now... But... Massive thank you's to everyone who reviewed! Love and e-candy to everyone!


	5. Recognition

**Chapter Five: Recognition**

Food was brought to her in less than half-an-hour. She knew this because she could finally look at her watch again. More time had passed than she had realized. They began their excursion at 10:45 or so in the morning, and, glancing now at her watch, she saw that it was 7:23 in the evening. She hadn't been hungry until the food was brought in for her.

The lock clicked, and Lisa felt herself tense automatically, whether for flight, defense or attack she wasn't sure. A shadow entered quickly and shut the door behind him. Lisa relaxed when she saw the state of her visitor. He was a thin, balding man with wide eyes and a mousy face. He held a small food tray in his hand. His eyes dashed about the room until they met Lisa's, and he seemed to shrink beneath her gaze. Obviously, Jackson had told the others what had happened to the smiling man. She didn't pretend to know what he had said, but she imagined that Jackson ruled like a dictator: through fear of punishment and the rewarding for good service.

The mousy man set the tray down on her side table, looking at her with quick sidelong glances.

"What, did he tell you I'd claw your eyes out?" Lisa asked boldly. The man fidgeted as he walked backward toward the door. He looked as if he had been told not to speak to Lisa. She rolled her eyes. Men were so pliable, even by so small an influence. He left as quickly as he had come, locking the door behind him with a sharp click.

Lisa stared down at her rations: a club sandwich, a paper cup filled with water, and a small bag of pretzels. She ate the sandwich in what felt like three bites, and washed it down with the entire cup of water. She stared at the pretzels, and suddenly wished she hadn't finished off the water. She stowed the bag under the bed, perhaps for a midnight snack.

She threw herself backward onto the bed, laying one cold hand on her warm brow. With a slow exhale, she closed her eyes. She lay still in the warm folds of the blankets and slowly tried to piece everything together now that she had a load of free time on her hands.

They had been gone from the hospital for about eight or nine hours, depending on whether she rounded up or down. As far as she knew, Jackson hadn't called anyone to demand any sort of ransom. She knew from all the crime dramas on TV that when a ransom isn't posted, it's usually curtains for the victim. She mentally rolled her eyes. Jackson seemed to be the "just for kicks" type. But he had never made a direct threat to her life. Sure, he'd made vague allusions, but his eyes-

She cut herself off from that line of thought. She didn't want to think about his eyes. The eyes that seemed to flash with bursts of emotion. One moment they were a placid sea, then suddenly they were frozen to ice by a mere suggestion. Lisa sighed and rolled over onto her side.

There she stayed for another hour. She wondered if anyone would be sent to the room to deliver a bullet in the chest, or maybe Jackson himself might not come to put an end to the waiting. She let her mind wander, thinking of her father, the fateful flight to Miami, her grandmother's funeral. She thought about the hotel, which was being managed by Cynthia in her absence. She wondered how the girl was holding up, and whether she had noticed her boss's sudden disappearance. She wondered how many messages were on her machine- Dad asking if everything was okay.

No. Everything was _not_ okay.

She had seen a man die, then been kidnapped by that man. She had been bound in the back of a stolen ambulance. She had mentally, verbally and physically sparred with her captor. A man had tried to molest her. That man had been killed in front of her.

It had not been the best of days.

She rolled over again, staring at the dim lamp standing solemnly on a nearby desk. She wondered absently when Jackson would be back to claim his room.

More long minutes passed with nothing but silence interrupting her thoughts. Eventually, she pulled the blanket up to her chin, burrowing her face in the pillow. He would probably practically drag her from the room when a new one had been made up for her. She breathed heavily and turned to face the wall, closing her eyes against the world.

Before she drifted into a restful sleep, she was finally able to identify that smell that had escaped her in the hospital room. It had hit her so strongly then, and now it surrounded her, and, strangely, comforted her.

It was Jackson.

* * *

"-reports that a countywide alert has been put out on 27-year-old Lisa Reisert."

She blinked the sleep from her eyes, listening ponderously.

Missing for 24 hours, she was last seen in Baptist Hospital of Miami at 10:30 AM yesterday morning. One witness, Carl Jensen, a custodian for the hospital, claims that he helped Lisa Reisert find the room of a friend she planned on visiting while in the hospital."

Lisa began to sit up in the bed. A small black-and-white television was sitting on the desk in the middle of the room. A smartly-dressed anchorwoman was listing off witness's descriptions of Lisa Reisert. Her eyes focused in the semi-darkness on a pair of shoes propped up beside the TV. She followed the thin legs in black trousers until the met the body of a still smartly-dressed Jackson Rippner. His eyes were fixed on hers, a smirk on his lips.

"We're on TV, Leese," he said jovially.

"What-"

"Shh," Jackson prompted. "You'll miss the best part." He turned his eager eyes to the TV. Lisa followed their gaze.

"Official reports from the hospital show that Lisa Reisert entered room 3066, where Dr. Robert Lamb was working with an unnamed patient." A pause. "Dr. Lamb's body was found later at 12:49 PM yesterday afternoon, his neck snapped and body looted of important patient information."

Lisa hung her head. He would mumble no more.

"Three doctors, choosing not to release their names, claim that they entered the room to resuscitate the unnamed patient, who died only minutes later. Controversy over the identity of this man is flying due to the papers looted from Dr. Lamb's body. One of the doctors claims to remember the name 'Jack Rippner'."

Jackson winced.

"Authorities at the scene have been quoted as saying, 'We have reason to believe that Lisa Reisert was kidnapped by the missing doctor.' Our station had found the identity of this doctor to be Dr. Randall Collins, who disappeared from the hospital at the same time as Ms. Reisert."

"Now they've gone and spoiled the fun," Jackson muttered. Lisa figured that this Randall Collins was the enigmatic Dr. Jones.

"Evidence has been found that faulty equipment may have pronounced-"

Jackson reached forward and switched off the TV. It blinked out of existence, throwing the room into darkness. She hadn't realized that it had been supplying the only light. She remained perched on the bed, using the blanket as a shield. The bed sagged near her feet.

"How'd you sleep, Leese?" His voice penetrated through the darkness.

She didn't answer. He shifted slightly, suggesting he had given a shrug.

"Well, no matter. It's time to do your duty," he continued. Lisa backed away until her back was against the wall, afraid of what he could have meant by it. Blue light was thrown across his face as he opened up a cell phone. She calmed a degree. His fingers nimbly pressed the toned buttons with a smile lighting his face. He held the cell phone out to her, taking the light from his face. It was ringing on the other end.

"Just say what I tell you to say," he said lowly. The phone was ringing.

"What if I refuse?" The phone rang again. "You don't have someone watching my Dad again, do you?"

"No," Jackson said with amusement in his voice. He lowered his tone to nearly a whisper. "You don't do what I say, and your late night encounter with Gerard will seem like a walk in the park."

Someone picked up the phone.

Lisa's shaking fingers took it.

"Hello?" A small voice- a woman- was on the other end.

"Tell her you know where her brother is," Jackson whispered, suddenly beside her.

"I- I know where your brother is," Lisa said with a quavering voice. Jackson had sidled up next to her, his own ear near the cell phone and dangerously close to Lisa's face.

"What!" The girl on the other end suddenly turned frantic. "Who is this? Where is he!"

"You work for an undisclosed organization," Jackson said into her ear. "As long as she listens to you, Christian will be perfectly safe."

"It doesn't matter who I am," Lisa said with false strength. "All that matters is that you listen. Christian won't be hurt if you keep listening,"

"How do I know you really have him? How do I know he's safe?"

"He has a scar between his shoulder blades from the day she pushed him off of the swing." Jackson breathed quietly.

"He-" Lisa cut herself off, voice unsteady, and covered the phone with her hand. "I can't do it, she whimpered.

"Remember, Lisa," Jackson said. One hand snaked through her curls. She tried to jerk away from his touch, suddenly frightened. "I never go back on a promise." His fingers persisted.

"He has a scar," Lisa began again, closing her tear-rimmed eyes to ignore his fingers playing in her hair. "It's between his shoulder blades, from the day you pushed him from the swing."

The woman on the other end began to cry.

"I want to talk to him," she blubbered.

"We are willing to negotiate," Jackson spoke softly onto Lisa's cheek, his finger drawing a small circle on the back of her neck. "Christian's life for two million, in 20 dollar bills." Lisa glared sickeningly at him.

"Christian will be fine, as long as you can come up with two million dollars-"

"Anything!" The woman cried.

"The drop-off will be tomorrow," Jackson cooed, pleased with himself, "in front of Christian's house. Two million in garbage bags piled at his mailbox."

"You'll need to have two million in 20's in front of Christian's house tomorrow, all of it in garbage bags and piled at his mailbox." Lisa shook her head to try to rid herself of Jackson's hand.

"By tomorrow?" The woman's tears were evident in her voice.

"Please," Lisa begged, an edge in her voice. The woman gave a small gasp.

"Oh my God, they've taken _you_ too, haven't they?"

Lisa's eyes filled with tears. Jackson reached for the phone, but Lisa tore herself away from him. She rolled heavily off the bed.

Before she could cry for help into the phone, Jackson was on top of her, wrestling the phone from her grip. He pinned her wrists to the ground, knocking the phone from her hands and quickly hanging it up with the press of a button. He was breathing heavily, his breath only catching a slight rasp.

"That was stupid of you," he breathed, his face and inch from hers. "Funny, I know you're not a stupid girl."

"Why did you need _me_ to call that poor woman?" Lisa spat, trying to free herself, to no avail. "Why couldn't one of your lap dogs-"

He jerked her slightly, her head thumping against the ground.

"You haven't figured it out yet?" Jackson coughed. "You don't know why I risked my life to bring you here?" His voice and grip were escalating. "You don't know why yours was the first name that leapt to mind when this job cropped up? You're more ignorant than I thought!"

He leaned down and pressed his lips violently against hers.

The world around her suddenly dropped away into the darkness. She struggled against his grip for a short moment, and then she suddenly stopped. His grip on her had eased, and one hand was suddenly behind her neck, pulling her head forward. Her next movement was involuntary as she brought her hand from the floor, up around his neck and into his thick hair. He broke contact suddenly, glancing at her in the darkness.

"_You're_ going to make the pick-up," he added, as if the last few moments had been deleted from history.

She felt a great fear, hatred, betrayal, weakness, and great fragility, but also a strange sensation low in her stomach. She knew she had never felt such a feeling before, and realization dawned on her like a runaway train.

_Oh, God, I wanted that?_

"I hate you," she said thickly, unable to think of anything else.

"I know," Jackson answered. He leaned in again to seize her lips with his.

* * *

AN: AH! I did it! AH! No, it's not finished yet. I'm just happy I finally got to the freakin' kiss! AH! Okay. Sorry. Getting all fan-girl-y there. I'll stop now. I have so many freaking reviews! I had no idea that it would get this popular! I love everyone who reviewed, and even those who read and don't review. Everyone get's equal Shoeless One love! And, uh... e-peanuts? Now, for some special announcements:

**No One Mourns the Wicked:** Still a long name... Ahem... THANK YOU! Sorry, had to get that outta my system. I totally know where you're coming from with the whole lazy thing- that's me all over. I usually don't update this fast, but I am so into this fic right now. I thank you kindly for all your compliments, although I'm not sure I deserve them all... And I swear I had the Jackson-smell idea before you reviewed, but you can take credit of you want -tee hee- I hope there was enough L/J action in this to keep you happy. Love!

**Bimefl:** I use a variation on it too! I actually say, "I'll castrate you with a wooden cooking spoon." but I didn't think that's a Jackson thing to say. Sure he didn't seduce her, but I hope this chapter has the next best thing. Bwahaha! I'm just so hyper now that I actually write it down! Woo hoo! Thanks for reviewing, and help yourself to e-peanuts!

**Ayumi Omoide:** I love you too! You give me hope and strength to write, you and other wonderful reviewers like yourself. Don't think you're unworthy: I'm really not worth most of those adjectives you used in your review. But I love that you love my fic! It brings me joy to see your reviews. Oh, and Jackson IS a sexy-fine man. I hope I updated fast enough. Half of my week is computer-less. Thank you so much for your wonderful wonderful reviews, and I look forward to hearing more from you! Love and cheers!

**Rashida:** There is no shame in dancing with cardboard Legolas's. Indeed, there is much fun to be had. "Jackson is making one thing very, VERY clear to those he is working with: No one lays a hand on Lisa." This made me giggle incessantly, which is a good thing. Lisa is his girl, there's no two ways about it, She can't help it. Fact O' Life. Thankee for your wonderful reviews! Happy reading/writing!

**Eccentric Banshee:** Congrats on the longest review I've ever had! -throws another freakin' e-party- I simply love that you think this is the best out there. I'm sure it's not THE best, but I am so flattered that you say it is. It really makes me gleeful. I love making Jackson a jerk, because that's when he's his sexiest. I am so weird... Oh, and speaking of sexual tension... TAHDAH! I hope this chapter fulfils some expectations, albeit not all of them. Then I'd have to change the rating (muahahaha). I'll see you on the flip side!

**A.R. Bellance:** Hey, no biggie on missing the update. I'm a little too quick for my own good sometimes. I love random NPCs just walking in and out with no real purpose. (see: mousy man, Ch.5) And why would I want these two to have a relationship that is in any way normal? It's too much fun to screw around with those two. Oh, how I love it... Thankee for your reviews!

**SpadesJade:** I think Jackson's intentions are a bit clearer in this chapter here. If it's not, I think I need to stop my career as a writer this instant. Heheheh... I hope this was enough Lisa/Jackson stuff, but not an overload. I tended to make Jackson kinda... funny... in this chapter. I dunno... Thank you for your reviews! I look forward to them! E-peanuts?

**Roony:** I am very glad that you are one of my regular reviewers, because, while I love that people love my writing, you tell me what needs to be fixed or looked upon in later installments. I love constructive criticism, and I strive for it. As for your comments to Jackson's little gang, there was a bit on it in this chapter, and also, his "talks" with these fellas aren't in the story to kinda leave them to the reader's imagination. But I thank you profusely for your words of wisdom, and I'm looking forward to more.

To all those that didn't get a shout-out: LOVE YOU TOO! Just because you don't get a shout-out doesn't mean I don't love your reviews. I do, I do, I dooo! -hands out e-peanuts and throws a big party for non-shout-out-ers- I hope that I handled the L/J stuff in this chapter all right. If not, tell me and I'll fix it! Love everyone! Tootles for now!


	6. Invitation

**Chapter Six: Invitation**

All Lisa could remember was Jackson deliberately pressing against her, one hand's fingers tracing her spine, the other holding her close against him. She vaguely theorized that she had never been kissed by a man that knew what he was doing as well as Jackson did. She slowly surrendered.

The next moments were a hot, fast blur, punctuated by both of their short, panting breaths. She wasn't sure where she ended and he began anymore. He knew everything about her, even that his lips on the very edge of hers was more arousing than a direct kiss, and she would lean further into him. She ran shivering fingers through his bangs, and then he complimented her movements by running his lips down her jaw and neck.

Fingers began inching her shirt up her torso.

She gave a sharp gasp. The pain in her scar flared up as if a red-hot knife had been pressed against it. She took his hand from her side the same as she would to something that had burned her. Jackson's head shot up, eyes quickly searching her face.

The cold, icy eyes flashed dangerously in her memory, and they were suddenly back on the plane. He had placed her father's monogrammed wallet on the tray before her. Those eyes were glancing devilishly up at her in her memory, and staring almost concernedly down at her in the present. Those were the same eyes of the man who would have had her father killed, who would have killed the Keefe's, who would have killed her. Then they changed to a dangerous dark brown, changed to the eyes of the man that had held a knife to her throat.

"No," she managed at last, but her voice didn't have any more strength in it. His eyes persisted. She shut hers, aware now that she was crying. "I can't," she cried lowly. He left the silence hanging for an agonizing moment, then brushed back her tears. She let the sob rise in her throat, then stifled it as it reached her lips.

"I hate when women cry," he muttered- the same words from their ride on the ambulance.

There was a sharp knock on the door. She opened her eyes to see Jackson looking peevishly in the direction of the door. It wasn't until that lucid moment she realized that Jackson's shirt and tie were messily undone. Against all reasoning, she felt a mad blush rise to her face and neck. Jackson lingered over her only another moment more, then pushed himself to his feet, drawing his fingers along her chin. She shivered at the contact.

Jackson hastily buttoned his shirt as he walked to the door. There was a key in the lock, a click, then a beam of light that illuminated the bed that Lisa had previously occupied. She lay quiet on the floor, not wanting to attract unnecessary attention. She strained her ears to listen in on the conversation. It seemed that a higher-up wanted Jackson to confirm that the call had been made. He answered in the affirmative. More murmured words that escaped her hearing, then two sets of footsteps left the room, the lock clicking after them.

Lisa sat up on the floor, wiping her face clear of tears. She felt around the desk that was beside her, then found a lamp. She turned it on and the room was flooded with light. She noticed the television again for the first time since she had stirred at the voice of the anchorwoman. Lisa wondered vaguely if anyone would charge in upon hearing the TV to kill her, but she remembered that Jackson bore the only key to his room. She then sat on the chair Jackson had occupied and switched the TV on.

It was a commercial about soap. Lisa wondered if there was a shower in the facility, but the thought only brought her mind to the men in the warehouse and the fact that she'd have to take her clothes off to bathe. The thought did not bring her comfort. The next commercial was for a new sports drink with people drenched in water and playing sports at the same time. She was sure it was some clever metaphor, but she couldn't help but wonder how hard it would be to play basketball while one's clothes were sopping wet. Then the anchorwoman returned.

Lisa watched with one elbow on the desk, propping her head up while she basked in the glow of the black-and-white TV. The anchorwoman was reporting on a fire that had broken out in downtown Miami at a small department store. She then moved on to a small Dog Show for children, followed by a segment on the weather. Sunny and warm on this fine summer day.

As she watched, she wondered how people could go on with their lives when such terrible things were happening to people like her, people like those caught in that fire. How could she skip from a story of a kidnapped woman to a child's Dog Show? It made her feel so small and insignificant. But she was. In the whole ordeal, she was a pawn to be used and sacrificed so that, ultimately, the game is won. It was part of Jackson's gambit, and, as far as she could tell, he wasn't used to failure.

She brushed her fingers across her lips, trying to remember if what had happened between them had been real or simply some strange dream. Had she been afraid? Was that why her heart was still beating so fast? She didn't know what to think anymore, and didn't care. She turned off the TV before the anchorwoman could start talking about the Senator from Ohio.

She only had to wait three more minutes for Jackson to arrive. He stood in the doorway, severely backlit, leaning with one shoulder on the doorframe and arms crossed over his chest. She knew that he was studying her even without needing to glance up. She knew the feel of his eyes on her by now. They had a different feel when they were looking at her. She looked up to see that he was twirling the key ring on his pointer finger.

"Here are your options, Leese," he began calmly. She noticed that his top two buttons were still undone. "One, I can throw these keys down on the desk and we can pick up where we left off." He smirked at the flush in her cheeks. "Or two, you can clean yourself up, have a nice lunch, _then_ we pick up where we left off."

Lisa mulled over the choices, then ran a hand through her hair nervously.

"Door number two, please," she said, trying to interject some wit into her flat, quavering voice.

"All right." He grinned. "Follow me."

They stepped out into the hallway, his fingers wrapped gingerly around her wrist. She followed complacently, watching the back of his neck, following the curve of his hair, letting her eyes roll off of it like water. She quickly looked down at her feet.

There were no other people in the hallway of the second floor, but there were sounds that brought her to believe that some were stirring in the converted offices. They came down the rickety stairs, and then he pulled her off into a corner of the warehouse. A small room, walled with cement and a wooden door, was before them. Jackson flipped through his key ring and unlocked the door.

"As you can see, I've taken all of the safety precautions," he assured her as he swung the door open inward. Lisa gazed in. It was nothing fancy. White tiled floor, which broke into cement near the back wall, with a drain in the center of the second part of the floor. A curtain was attached to the wall where the break occurred. A crude shower. She saw that her own shampoos and soaps had mysteriously appeared beside the towel rack.

"Been in my house?" She asked. Jackson laughed.

"No, not me. I've been a bit too preoccupied entertaining you to take a little trip to your 'house.' I assume you're referring to your apartment, 5252 A-"

"I know where my apartment is," Lisa said.

"It was the late Mr. Gerard that did the 'packing' as we rode over in the ambulance." He let go of her wrist as he gently pushed her inside. "Now, be a good girl and wash behind your ears. You'll find your new clothes hanging on the shower bar."

"New clothes-?" Lisa looked over her shoulder to see a long black skirt and a red v-neck blouse hanging neatly where Jackson had said they would be.

"Those, on the other hand, were my doing. I believe they're just your size." He grinned as he ran his eyes down the length of her. He looked back to her face to see that she had averted her eyes. "Don't keep me waiting too long. I know you like long showers, but you'll have to cut this one short." Lisa shivered at the thought that he _knew_ she liked long showers. "We have a lunch date." With that, he closed the door and locked it. She examined the doorknob quickly. It felt that every door in the place locked from the out side.

She quickly disrobed and turned the shower on, not too hot, not too cold. She remembered Jackson's words to keep things short, but she decided to make him squirm. It had been a while since she'd had a nice shower, and she wanted to get herself as clean as she could. She rinsed out the knife wound on her cheek, and washed her hair twice to rid herself of the feeling of the grinning man. Then she simply let the warm water run over her. It was a cleansing that she had desperately needed.

She shut off the water, and the pipes squealed with delight. A few more drips, and the water had been vanquished. Lisa had begun to dry her hair out when she heard a faint voice on the other side of the door. She wrapped a towel around her body and edged near the door. She knew that it was Jackson, but she hadn't expected him to be singing.

"_And I, Jack, the Pumpkin King,_

_Have grown so tired of the same old thing-_"

It was the same words she had heard in the hospital. Lisa listened quietly to the words of the song, listening to the sadness of the lyrics, and the dulcet tones that were Jackson's voice.

After lingering an instant more, she dressed herself in the clothes that Jackson had picked for her. The blouse was made of an almost velvety red cloth that shone, and was silky beneath her fingertips. The arms extended to her elbows and ended in an elegant fork. She tied the strings in the back into a bow. The skirt ran down past her knees, but didn't cover her ankles. She pined for shoes of any sort, but would have to bear. She wondered absently what to do with her old clothing, then hung it up on the hangars that the new clothes had previously occupied. She approached the door and timidly knocked on it. Jackson broke off his singing.

"All done?"

"Yes."

A pause.

"Well, you used up more time than I would have liked. Now we'll have to talk at lunch to save time." He unlocked the bathroom door. She was amazed to see that he had changed clothes while she had showered. A crisp, white shirt was under a new black blazer, free of blood. He wore no tie, but she could see that he had made extra effort to get these new clothes. She wondered for a moment if he had gone temporarily mad. He slowly sized her up again.

"Money well spent?" She asked boldly, crossing her arms over her chest. He flicked his eyes up to hers, his sheepish smirk creeping across his cheeks.

"Well spent," he echoed. "Shame we can't go out somewhere. We'd make quite the couple." He raised his eyes to the ceiling in thought. "Maybe a new couple on their third or fourth date, going somewhere out of their normal price range just for a night of decadence. Or..." He looked again at Lisa. "Maybe two lovers, spending a night away from their dearly beloveds to have a little fun for once." He raised his eyebrows and his smirk turned into a full-fledged grin.

"Wh-why not go out?" Lisa interjected quickly. He said nothing, which prompted her to continue. "I couldn't make much of a scene in a crowded restaurant, and neither could you. Checkmate."

He seemed to ponder it, then ponder it again. She could feel the inquisitive eyes searching hers for any secret agenda. He shrugged, at last.

"I'd have to blindfold you again, Leese." They met eyes. "But I did say it was a shame, didn't I?"

* * *

Lisa rode in the back seat again, where the windows were tinted. Of course, she couldn't tell, because the blindfold was over her eyes again. She was rapidly forming a plan in the back of her head, for escape. But she couldn't shake one nagging, persistent thought. 

_I wanted it._

Jackson was whistling in the front seat, some tune she recognized but couldn't place. It was a short drive that ended when Jackson shifted the car into park.

"I know you like seafood," he said as he leaned into the backseat to untie her blindfold. She took in her surroundings like a sponge. A nondescript seafood establishment. A plethora of cars. Not one payphone in sight. Jackson opened her car door and quickly seized her arm with his, notching them together at the elbow.

"Oh, look at the adorable young couple," he breathed into her ear as he leaned over her. "They look like they're so in love." They started walking toward the building.

"I don't think you're in love with me, Jackson," she said quietly, turning her face to meet his.

"Hmm," he thought shortly, studying her face with a turn of his lips. "You're probably right." He gazed forward as he opened the door for the both of them. "I've never been in love before. I wouldn't know what it's like."

"Neither have I," Lisa muttered as she looked away.

"All you need to worry about," he said as he tucked a still-damp curl behind her ear, "is that pick-up tomorrow. You let me worry about everything else."

Their conversation was lost in the noise of a busy restaurant at lunchtime. They were seated immediately.

* * *

AN: Whoo! I finnaly got this chapter done. I must have re-written it three times or so, then thrown the whole thing out. I'm mostly proud of this one, even though basically all it does is move everyone around. Oh well, everyone's gotta have at least one of those, right? Right? I was overwhelmed by the responses from last chapter, and I think my inbox would have exploded ifI got one more review! I shake every single one of you warmlyby the hand! -does a line of handshakes- So I guess I did something right for once... And now, fo some special announcements: 

**corinne-la:** Ah! Thanks for the Top Ten! "Nice to people when he wants to and not so nice when he gets mad." Ah yes, this is my vision of Jackson completely. Mostly in control of his emotions, but when he's not, watch out, folks! I really liked your top ten. It amused me much and makes me smile when I read it. Thanks!

**red hood ninja:** This is a time when I'm glad you didn't trust your first instinct too! Chew on your cell phone no longer, friend, for the new chappie is up! I tried to get a feel for what the two would be like after the kiss, but I'm not sure if I captured the right atmosphere. I'm counting on you to reprimand me if I got it wrong! Here, have a package of e-doughnuts. I'm on a diet and I have to give them away. ANYWAY! Thanks for the awesome review, and keep on keepin' on!

**EmGee:** This may sound strange, but I'm glad I got you hooked. Man, now I sound like a drug dealer. "You got the money? I got the stuff if you got the money. You don't see the stuff until I get the money." And in this scenario, the "stuff" is L/J fluff. I shall keep your undying love in this No-Leak Ziploc container so no love will spill out into my spinach dip. Much love and hugs, and I hope this chapter is enough to bring you back for more!

**DarkVerity:** It seems a lot of people love me after that chapter... BUT! I know what you mean about re-reading certain parts of a story just to let it soak in. I must have rea the end of this one chapter in the Mary Russell series so many times I have it memorized. I'll jsut say... Hottest... Kiss... Ever... Between... A 21 year old girl... and Sherlock Holmes. Ahem... anyway... yeah... I was a little sad that Jackson didn't just snog her in the end, but it just wasn't in his character... yet... bwahahaha. Help yourself to e-doughnuts, and thank you so much for your review!

**SpadesJade:** Bwaha. Naughtiness resides in the realm where Jackson is king. I can safely say that's the first time someone's admited my writing gave them chills. But I had soo much fun writing the phone call scene. Jackson can be such a bastard. But a sexy bastard, as Lisa finds out. I hope the update was soon enough that you're still holding on! Ahh! Here, I'll save you with this e-doughnut! -uses doughnut as a floatation device- Thanks so much for your reviews!

**Eccentric Banshee: **He kissed her! -squee's- I was almost as excited as you were, and I wrote the gall durn thing! As for Christian Bale... Maybe if he aged a decade or two, then he might fit the part well. But I won't ruin your fantasy... Yes... he looks _exactly_ like Christian Bale. I'm glad I have the approval of a criminal mastermind for my little plot-thingie. Bwahaz. Thanks so much for your review. I look forward to them -grins- E-doughnut?

**Rashida:** "Jesus, Mary, Joseph, Mr. Frodo and a handbasket!" Okay, I nearly spit my drink out because I was laughing so hard. I am soo gonna use that expression at some time in my life. I'll wait for just the perfect moment, then BAM! You got served! Oh yeah, review. I leave most o the kiss up to the imaginations of the readers, whic is probably more fun for you -wink wink- Thankee so much for the review! LOVE!

**A.R. Bellance:** I had a hard time writing that line, too, but I had to have something that kicked Lisa into wanting to cry for help. She's such a sensible girl, you know, what with the stabbing of windpipes with pens. Go random NPCs! I'm hoping to have some fun ones at the restaurant. I have waaaay too much fun with them. I'm glad I have your love too! -keeps a shelf in fridge for Ziploc Bags of love- THANKEE soooo much!

**Ayumi Omoide:** -hands you back your jaw- Be careful not to lose this, friend! You may need it later, say, for the finale... bwahahah... It's not next chapter, but just a few more and I'll be done. And you are too worthy! -gives you e-doughnut- I love having you as a fan. Your reviews always make me happy and bring a smile to me. Sorry the update took so long, but I only have a computer for half of the week now. Oh well. I'll try very hard to update sooner, just for you. -grins- Much love and appriciation!

**Ashley:** Bwahaha you know who you are. Your first line cracked me up, friend. I think I woke a child up, but I hid, so it was okay. I'm glad that you think that the kiss was all right. I usually have some problems with the kiss whenever I have to write about it. And as for Lisa's attitude, I like to think that this chapter has her feelings moving like an old saloon door: seesawing back and forth endlessly. Man, do I love my similes. Looking forward to an update of "Conditional" and I'm sure you're already hoping I update soon. Well, let's both get started writing! Ready, set go!

As for everyone else that reviewed: sorry if you don't get a shout-out. They are getting quite long as of late, and I can't talk to everyone I'd like to. If you'd really like to talk to me or ask me any questions, you can e-mail me or IM me if you want. Love, hugs and e-doughnuts all around! Until next time... POOF!


	7. Consummation

**Chapter Seven: Consummation**

Jackson was watching her over the top of his wineglass. He was smiling. She looked up from her knees to meet his eyes, and he raised his eyebrows as she did so.

"You and I," he began, swirling the wine in his glass, "are a couple on our anniversary date. I've decided to treat you to a nice lunch, followed by, oh, why not make it a surprise?" He relished in her flustered reaction. "What do you think, Lisa? Five months? A year?"

She watched as he threw his head back and finished off the last of the red wine, smacking his lips at the dry and bitter taste. She actually smiled, then returned her face to that guarded mask.

"I don't think that's how you're supposed to drink wine, _dear_." She threw a heavy and sarcastic emphasis on the last word that made him answer with an icy "harrumph."

"I never liked wine."

"I didn't have you tacked as a wine man," she said quietly, watching for a waiter. One appeared beside the table a moment later.

"Good afternoon," she said cheerfully. She was young, maybe not even out of high school yet. "My name is Donna and I'll be your waitress this afternoon. Can I get you two something else to drink?" Jackson looked up with his practiced "people smile," showing the tips of his white teeth.

"Yes, I think so." He turned to Lisa. "Leese, _dear_, you like anything special?" He laughed. "Seabreeze?" She felt herself go pale.

"No," she answered quickly. "Just... Just water, please."

He turned back to Donna. "Water for my girl, and another glass of this-" He made a face toward his wine glass- "for me."

Donna smiled cheerily.

"All right! I'll be back with your drinks in just a sec!"

Jackson watched her retreat, then turned back to Lisa with a roll of his eyes.

"Nothing like an infatuated teenager to drain your appetite." He leaned his elbow on the table, propping his chin up and surveying Lisa. "I assume that you would like to know more about the pick-up you're going to make tomorrow morning?" The sudden change in subject brought Lisa to her senses. She was sitting in a relatively fancy restaurant with a murderer.

"Yes," she answered guardedly. She folded and unfolded her cloth napkin in her lap. Jackson tapped his fingers against the table before shifting in his chair and continuing.

"I have another outfit I've picked out for you. For both of us, actually. I'll be driving, of course, and Jones- I'm sorry, I mean Dr. Collins- will tag along to make sure you don't change your mind at the last minute."

"The 'mysterious stranger' thing got old a while ago," she said, gaining nerve with every lucid moment. She glanced up to see him breathe irritably through his nose, and he continued with a slight twitch in his lips.

"The route is simple, a straight drive down the appointed street. The garbage bags will be in place if the woman loves her brother. If the bags aren't there, you don't have a thing to worry about. You just hold your position and I'll drive on by. Collins will call back to have dear old Christian taken care of."

"I don't see how you can do it," Lisa growled, holding her head carefully. She was feeling sick again. Maybe an hour ago, at the least, she had been intertwined with this man, the man who felt no remorse with killing an innocent man. "How can you say something like that and not-"

"What?" Jackson interjected, leaning across the table and removing the hand from her face. "Not _what_, Lisa?" His eyes were flicking from her eyes to her mouth, following her hairline and finally focused on her eyes. "Not feel any remorse? Pity?"

"Not realize that it's wrong." She looked up and saw that Donna was coming back with their drinks. She jerked her hand from Jackson's grip.

"Hi there!" Donna chimed, grinning gaily. Jackson pulled his almost painfully into a cheerful grin. "Are you two ready to order yet? I can tell you about our lunch specials, soup of the day, our special two for one-"

"I'll have the stuffed crab," Jackson interjected on the rambling girl. "Hold the garlic," he added with a hidden smirk.

"What dressing would you like on your salad?" Donna asked, writing on her small paper.

"None, thank you," he added sweetly. Lisa admitted to herself that the man knew what to say and when. He was good at what he did. Donna turned her young face to Lisa, grinning incessantly.

"You, ma'am?"

Lisa inwardly thought that she was still to young to be called "ma'am."

"The grilled salmon platter," Lisa said, trying to pretend she was in good spirits. She, too, was asked about salad, and sides, and quickly bypassed all the questions. Donna was off again, back to the refuge of the kitchen.

There was a long silence between the two of them, punctuated by the clattering of plates and cutlery in the kitchen and the babble of excited diners surrounding them. Jackson took a long drink of wine with another disgusted face. He caught his voice again.

"I do it because I know that people who do as they're told don't get killed." He rolled his shoulders, cracking his neck as he did so. "Look at yourself. You've done what I've told you, and nothing's happened to you, right? Where as Gerard, well..." He smiled inwardly. "That's the rule in this line of work, Leese." She glanced up, this time she being the one searching for hidden answers in locked eyes.

"How did you end up here, Jackson?" She asked. The sound of his name coming from her seemed to stir something in him, for he shifted again as if something had begun dancing inside of him. "You couldn't have always been like this."

"Are you saying that because you think you can change me?" He asked, leaning across the table again. She didn't flinch. "Let's just say my childhood wasn't as happy as yours was. My parents weren't quite as loving as yours were." He paused to watch for change on her features. "I was given an offer a few years back by a man I felt I could trust. So far, you're the only one who's managed to trip me up." He ran one finger along her jaw line, and she took in a shuddering breath. "No one can change me now, Lisa. I'm a little too far gone for that." He withdrew his hand, which she hadn't known she'd been leaning into until it was gone.

"Not that you would anyway," Lisa said after recovering from her temporary weakness. He shook his head with a smirk.

"Right again."

Their food came after a short wait, and they ate in near silence. She was glad to be able to get in a good meal before her "duty" came around tomorrow. She figured that if she tried to ignore it, it would be better for her in the long run. She had tried to do the same the night after Jackson had been taken from her father's house to the hospital. She had curled up in her old room, pulling all of her childhood memories around her and tried to forget everything that had happened since she'd left that room forever. But she couldn't rid herself of the blue-eyed stare of her nightmares.

That blue-eyed monster was watching her from atop the wineglass again.

"I need to use the bathroom," she said, staring down at her half-finished food. Jackson lifted his chin and inspected her shortly.

"All right." He stood up to match her sudden movement. "I'll go with you."

She furrowed her brows. He grinned.

"Don't get the wrong idea. That would be simply indecent at a restaurant, Lisa." He adjusted his collar- the bandage was still visible on his neck.

They walked arm in arm to the restroom area, where she left him to enter the women's door. It was a single-person facility. She glanced back before the door shut to see Jackson lean casually on the wall as if he had nothing better in the world to do than wait on her. She locked the door.

Lisa splashed water on her face and slicked some through her hair. She thought and thought, pressing her warm forehead against the cool mirror. She looked very nice for a woman being held captive by an irresistible-

_Stop it. He tried to kill me._

He had also had his tongue in her mouth not two hours ago.

She ran a hand over her eyes, glancing up at the ceiling as if asking God himself for help in her plight. It was then that she glanced the window.

It was a small window with frosted glass so no peering eyes from outside could see in. The latch was on the inside, and it was opened slightly. Her mind flew into action immediately, and she was suddenly beside it. She stood on tiptoes to reach the latch, and pressed her shoulder against it to lever it open further. It slid open easily. Her heart began thrumming rapidly in her chest. She might just be able to pull it off. She'd run into town, find the police, report Jackson, and the make of the car he was driving, what the inside of his warehouse looked like-

She stopped her thought process, halfway through the window's opening. What if she _didn't_ do all of that? What if she climbed back into the bathroom and rejoined Jackson in the restaurant?

She didn't have time to think before a hand grabbed her wrists and dragged her from the ground-level window. Her leg caught on the window frame, causing a long red line to run down her calf. She was jerked to her feet to stare into the piercing blue eyes of Jackson Rippner.

"I see."

That was all he said.

He dragged her back to the car, not bothering to see if anyone was watching them. No one was, but the fact that he didn't care was what bothered Lisa the most. He opened the door and dropped Lisa inside, slamming the door after her. He plopped into the driver's seat and leaned back to tie the blindfold on her. He hadn't bothered with her seatbelt. She was too shaken to do anything. Her fingers were trembling again.

He was silent in the front seat. She had no idea where he was looking, what he was doing. All she knew was the darkness behind the blindfold and the tiny rasp that still caught in Jackson's breath. She waited for him to say something. To hit her, maybe. She had tensed herself for anything. Then the car rumbled to life, and he shifted it into reverse. They were leaving.

The car ride was as short as it had been on the way out. Somewhere, she heard thunder roll, and soon there was the steady plink of raindrops on the car. She was frightened, nauseous and nervous all in the same moment, but a new feeling was trickling through her that she'd tried to ignore.

She had disappointed him, and she hated herself for it.

She knew she shouldn't feel that way, but she did. It made her want to scream.

The car pulled to a halt, and Jackson was soon pulling her from the back seat. She was suddenly set upon by the rain, which was heavier than she had initially surmised. Jackson's hand was tight on her wrist despite the cold rain. He unlocked the massive front door, then closed it again after them. The blindfold came off again and landed on the floor with a thick wet sound.

Lisa's eyes remained shut. He grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to tilt her head up toward his.

"Look at me," he said in a quiet roar, like a whispering lion. She opened her eyes.

She hadn't seen that look in his eyes since he had cornered her in the airplane's restroom. He heaved his breath, looking death into her eyes, and, surprisingly, she mirrored it. He let loose one long, low breath, then jerked his hand from her face.

"Come on," he murmured, seizing her wrist again.

She followed him up the stairs, watching her feet. She was bleeding from the cut the window had given her. Jackson unlocked his room -_his_ room- and shoved Lisa inside. She sat heavily on the bed. He tossed a white cloth at her.

"Clean up," he said tersely, closing the door and locking it as he entered. Lisa took the cloth and began mopping up the blood on her leg. There wasn't a lot of it, which made the job easier. What made it hared was the hardness of Jackson's eyes, watching her, as he sat on the edge of the desk. Her hands began to shake.

"I wasn't going to run," she said at last. Her voice wasn't as strong as she had hoped it would be. Jackson sat down beside her and took over cleaning her leg where her trembling hands had failed.

"Really," he said, un-amused. "You were just hanging half-out of the window for you own good, then?" She was silent, wincing in pain as he cleaned her wound. He got up and searched the desk for bandages. He found them and placed a patch of gauze over the thin cut. He taped it down with white medical tape.

"I changed my mind," Lisa said, watching his fingers manipulate the bandages. His eyes shot up almost malevolently.

"What could have possibly changed your mind?"

She met his eyes slowly, as if afraid of what she would find there. She saw herself reflected in the intense blue eyes. His cold, calculating eyes drank in her sad, placid face, and they slowly melted from the ice they had been to pools of water at calm.

"You infuriate me," he whispered huskily. "You do _this_ to me. You make me hate you, make me want to tear you apart with my eyes. Then you make me want to shag the hell out of you."

"I think that's called love," Lisa answered.

He silenced her with his lips. She let him press her body down into the bed, her head embraced by the pillow. He pried her lips apart with his own, and she didn't resist. One of his hands raked through her curls, running along her neck. She arched herself into him. He shifted above her, and she synchronized her movements with his. Again, his hand teased along her torso, hiking her shirt up slowly. He paused only slightly, and when she made no objection, he lifted the wet shirt from her body. She made quick work of the buttons on his shirt, and once she tossed it aside, she ran a shaking hand over his chest and up around his neck.

He broke contact, breathing heavily as his forehead was pressed against hers. His hair was hanging limp before his eyes.

"I hate you," he groaned before pressing in for another kiss.

"I know," she answered back.

She hooked one leg around him and deepened the kiss. Jackson reached up and switched the lamp off.

* * *

AN: I am so evil. I ended it there, and that makes me evil. But then again, if I didn't end it there, I'd have to change the rating, and I'd be a -gasp!- SMUT WRITER! I don't write smut... So I'll leave the rest to my adoring fans, for I know you all have very active imaginations, to say the least. And no, this still isn't the end, for the pick-up still has to happen. WOOT! Now, for some happy shout-outs!

**hilby:** Huzzah for new reader-ness! I am so glad you like this ficcie. I like that you made the allusion that Lisa is Jackson's Christmas Town, because I think that's really what she is. And, even though there's no clam chowder here, I hope Lisa wasn't too passive in this chappie for you. I'll still remember chowder, just for you... Hey! An idea! Today's e-food will be e-chowder! E-CHOWDER FOR EVERYONE!

**Ashley: **It's all right for reviewing "late", you still reviewed, and I still love yew! Lisa was silly in making her choice, but I hope she made up for it in this one. I hope this goes in a different direction than your ficcie, but then again, this chapter, while being my longest, is not my best. It felt a little off, but I ran with it to see where it got me. Well, here it is, and I hope it reaches expectations for y'all. Much love and e-chowder to you for your awesome, awesome reviews and ficcie too!

**red hood ninja:** That's called imagery and one of my favorite parts of writing, as you can see. I'm a description Nazi, as I've said before, and I have to see something in my mind before I can write it. I hope and pray that I haven't set the standards too high, for this chappie isn't the best, but I just really really hope it's as good, maybe, as the last one. Thank you for the reviews, friend, and help yourself to the foodstuffs!

**A.R. Bellance:** Darn Lisa and her ability to think things through! But at least in this chappie she began to think the way I did in the movie and realizing he's a good-lookin' fella who just needs some lovin'. And yes. He is a sex-god. I hope that you're not disappointed by this chappie! Love to you!

**corrine-la:** Huzzah! You write well for someone who's first language isn't English! I like to think that down deep Jackson really has a heart, and he wouldn't force himself on her... And as for Jackson watching Queer Eye... I don't know if I would put it past him. He is a very snappy dresser and looks a little feminine sometimes to boot. Maybe... -Twilight Zone Music!- Oh, and as for Jackson's POV, the story is meant to be told from over Lisa's shoulder so you don't know what Jackson's thinking on purpose. Thanks for the review!

**luningravatic: **Thank you sooo much for your review. I don't know why, but the image of Jackson singing is just so... Jackson... for me. I'm glad you think it worked well, and I love you for saying so. Everyone's saying I nailed Jackson, so I must've done something right. I hope I keep it that way in this chapter. If not, I'll do it over again, so just say the word! Here, have some of my coffee, friend! -gives coffe and e-chowder-

**Rashida:** ... I can safely say I've never had a bitch before. But I suppose it's a good thing. -grin- I love you too. I really really really hope that this chapter is up to par on the "You have Jackson down pat" department. I'm gonna worry until I get your review back, friend. And don't worry about mad ramblings. I love mad ramblings.

**Ayumi Omoide:** AHH! -takes Jackson plushie and plays with it dawn til ducks before remembering I was replying to a review- Oh yes... Ahem. Thank you so much, my lovely lovely friend! You sure are worthy, especially so because of your reviews. They make me giddy, and I'm so very happy when I get one from you. And, unfortunately, I did see that he's married. Oh, the agony... I weep, slowly and sadly. BUT YES! Thanks for your praise, though I still don't think I deserve all of it. Love and e-chowder and huggles to you my dear friend!

**DarkVerity:** Thanks so much for your review! It's all right to break down and giggle every once and a while. And if you like giggling as much as you suggest, then the end of this chappie must have been a giggle-fest. I hope you like this chappie as well, and thanks again!

Wow, these are getting long. And I'm not even shouting out to half the people I want to. So, I hope that hugs, love and e-chowder will suffice for everyone else that I love to death! I love all ofyou! The reviews really make me want to keep writing, and they bring me happiness with each one. LOVE!


	8. Embarkation

**Chapter Eight: Embarkation**

Lisa's head lay peacefully on his chest as it rose and fell with deep, heavy breaths. She could feel the still slight rattle caused from the pen she had shoved into his throat eons ago. His hand was teasing the curls that fell around her face in a slow, almost languid manor. There were no windows, so she must have imagined the glow of morning sun in a beam across the two of them. She knew in her mind that it was still mid-afternoon, but it felt like a new day had already begun. She knew that nothing would be the same as it had been. She could never return to the "normal" life she'd been living after this. She didn't know how long they had lain together, silent, in a state of calm, but it felt like an eternity. And she was all right with that.

"Lisa," he said quietly.

She sighed against his chest, not wanting to answer. She wanted to stay just as they were. She didn't want to think about the pick-up, or Christian, or anything other than the feel of his body next to hers.

"What?" She asked at last, feeling his hand follow the curve of her jaw.

"You're mine now, you know." His voice resonated in his chest below her ear. She turned to face him, propping herself up with her hands on his chest. "If anyone so much as looks at you in anything other than a platonic way, I think I might just have to kill them." She watched his eyes closely, searching them for truth.

"Jackson," she called, eyelids fluttering close to his. He made a small, satisfied sound and kissed her softly on the edge of her lips.

"I love it when you say my name," he muttered against her cheek.

"Jackson," she said again, partly to urge him on, partly because she liked saying it, "no one owns me." He gazed up into her placid eyes from his position on the pillow beneath her, and then he grinned slowly.

"All right, Miss Lisa Reisert, I don't _own_ you." He tucked a stray, still-damp strand of hair behind her ear in an almost compassionate way. "But you realize that this means no one else can ever own you either."

She relaxed again, nestling her face against his neck and eyes closed against the world. He seemed a man obsessed, fingers twirling in her hair incessantly. He let the silence coat them before speaking again.

"You realize that you've just slept with the man that tried to kill you and dear old Dad, don't you?"

She bit back the familiar tears and replaced them with a steady stare.

"And you've just slept with the woman that put a bullet and a pen in you."

"Point taken," he mumbled as he began to kiss her.

He took her again, for the second time that afternoon. And this time, she didn't cry.

* * *

She didn't know she had nodded off until she opened her eyes. She was facing the wall, the warmth of Jackson's body nowhere to be found. She sat up quickly in bed, taking the blanket with her. The room was dark, save for the dim light of the lamp on the desk. Her old clothes, cleaned and folded, were lying in the lamplight as if they had always been there. Her watch read 4:13 PM.

As her eyes adjusted to the light, she could see that her bedmate was nowhere in the room. Not lurking in any dark corners or hiding under the desk just to see her reaction. He was gone from the room. She felt a wave of sickness wash over her slightly at the sudden abandonment, then realized that she would have to get used to it. It was Jackson's style to leave her sleeping peacefully while he went about whatever unsavory business he had that day. But he would always come back. She knew this somewhere deep in her heart, and she trusted it. He would always be back for her.

Lisa got out of bed and dressed herself at 4:17 PM. She felt a dull throb through her body at 4:21 PM, and she knew that it meant she needed Jackson. She flirted with the idea of turning the TV on, but decided against it. Nothing would be able to tear her mind from the eyes that were burned in her memory.

Because he had insisted that she look at him the whole time.

The time crawled by, from 4:30 to 5:00 PM. At that time, she stood from the bed and placed a hand on the doorknob. She had to use the bathroom. For real this time. But who would let her out when Jackson had the only key?

She didn't need to worry, for the knob yielded under her touch. The door swung open into the hallway, spilling light into the dim bedroom. She couldn't stop the tears this time. He had left the door unlocked.

The warehouse sounded empty save for the solitary hammer that pounded away on the first floor. It grew in intensity as she descended the stairwell. As she let herself into the bathroom, she glimpsed a large truck of some sort sitting in the center of the warehouse. She took her precious time in the lavatory, taking another shower while she was at it. She wasn't sure if she had ever been so glad to see her own shampoo.

She had dressed herself again when she heard voices outside of the door. She wrapped the towel around her hair and knelt beside the door, pressing one ear up against the wooden frame. She immediately recognized two of the voices. Jackson and Jones-- or Dr. Collins, whichever he had chosen to be that day. The third was new to her.

"And how does the little lady like her new accommodations?" The new voice asked. She could practically feel the sarcasm oozing from under the door. "I take it she didn't want to take the room that Gerard was murdered in?"

"Indeed," Collins said with a haughty air. "Murdered would not be my word of choice, however. Miss Reisert has a new room, as you suggest. Number seven, in fact." She had never heard Collins string together so many words in a sentence. Perhaps he wasn't as taciturn around co-workers as kidnap-ees.

Then Jackson laughed.

She had never heard him laugh like that before. It was a full, round, cheerful laugh. She could see his lips curling into a wide smile in her mind's eye, the lines that framed his mouth when he smiled wide enough.

"I think she's quite comfortable," Jackson said after he had finished laughing. "You can ask her yourself if you want, Robbins. We'll take a trip upstairs, I think."

"Now wait," the new voice cut in-- Robbins, she guessed. "You can't just dodge the question like that! Why does the girl get to make the pick-up? All of us are qualified, and she's just a stupid woman!"

There was a deadly silence, and she heard Jackson crack his neck with a loud snap.

"I've given you your assignment, Robbins, and if I find out that you're ignoring orders again, I think that I'll report your 'activities' to Mr. Vore." The next words were hard for Lisa to catch, but she could swear that she heard him say, "--you and Gerard will have more than bad fashion sense in common."

Two sets of footfalls left her range of hearing, and one approached the door.

"Hey, Leese," Jackson said from the other side. She sheepishly opened the door, looking up at the smiling man. She found herself searching for something to say.

"You left the door unlocked," was all she could manage. He nodded, leaning his forehead against hers. The sign of affection caught her off guard, and she could do nothing but stare into the icy eyes.

"Lisa," he prompted, then thought in silence for a moment. "I almost don't want you to make the pick-up."

"Why?" It was a strange question to leap to mind, but it did.

"Call me a helpless romantic," he said with a slight laugh, "but it could get dangerous tomorrow. And--" He broke himself off, shaking the thoughts from his head physically. He looked away up the stairs, then back to her. "You, Collins and I are going to masquerade as garbage collectors. Unless that damned woman's gone and squealed to the police, it'll look like nothing more than a routine garbage route."

"And I'm going to be the one picking up the bags and throwing them in the truck," Lisa finished for him. He nodded. She looked perplexed.

"What?" He asked.

"I guess I expected something more elaborate," she said with a shrug. He took her by the waist and led her from the doorway.

"It's more elaborate than it looks on the surface. We've had to get a truck, get rid of a few crewmembers, and I've had to teach myself ho to drive one of these damnable things."

The truck came into view. It was the ugliest garbage truck she had ever seen, but she had to admit to herself that she had never really paid much attention to a garbage truck before. The hammering had disappeared during her time in the shower, and the truck was as solitary as a single duck blind in the center of a lake. Jackson adjusted the side-view mirror slightly, then turned to Lisa.

"You and Collins will be riding on the back, looking your finest in Waste Management jumpsuits." His lips twitched into a fiendish smile, then he averted his eyes to the truck. "The only reason I won't be back there with you is this." He ran a hand over his neck wound, the perfectly circular red scar standing out against his pale skin. She didn't know whether to feel sorry for it or not. Her fingertips brushed over the scar, and he winced. He obviously wasn't healed as well as he liked to put on.

"You promise," Lisa began, feeling that low ache again, "that if we get the money she gets her brother back unharmed?"

"Promise," he assured her. "And you know how I stick to my word." She nodded. Her eyes drew down his neck and rested on his unbuttoned collar.

"Who is he?" Lisa asked. Their eyes struck again. "Why is he so important to you?" Jackson's mouth turned into a thin line, and he looked away quickly. She grabbed him by the chin and turned his face back to hers.

"Leese--"

"I know what it's like to lose someone I care about," she said, almost sternly. "Do you?"

The words seemed to strike him, deep and low, like a kick to the nether regions. She wasn't quiet sure how they had ended up back in his room, but she knew that something was different that time. He was gentle, as if she were some china doll that he might break. Someone had knocked on the door and stolen him away not long after, but she waited for him. And he came back.

The next time she woke up, it was morning.

* * *

"Wakey-wakey, Leese," Jackson breathed into her ear. She woke with a stifled yawn, and the bedsprings gave as Jackson levered himself from the bed. She saw the sanitation uniforms and held her face in her hands. She had forgotten.

There was dread pulling on her stomach, a feeling she knew all too well around Jackson. Feelings bombarded her all at once: fear of what she had to do, anxiety for Christian and his sister, but a strong determination boiling in her gut.

"Lisa?"

She looked up to see Jackson zipping the worn gray jumpsuit up to his neck. He looked rather ridiculous, but she didn't laugh. She simply held out her hand expectantly.

"Clothes, please, Jackson."

He obliged.

It was not long before the two of them met up with Collins, who was also dressed in the terribly jumpsuit complete with sanitary gloves and rubber boots. Lisa had tied her hair back and hid it beneath an ugly cap. Jackson had rubbed some oil onto their jumpsuits to give the illusion of a hard workday, and he even smeared a long streak across Lisa's cheek. She looked much more a blue collar woman than she had ever looked. Collins had similar effects on his uniform and face, but his lips were still pulled tight in an expressionless flat line.

He also had a gun hidden on his person somewhere. Collins patted his chest, where the gun was nestled in an inside pocket, with fondness before helping Lisa jump up onto the back of the garbage truck. Collins joined her on the opposite side. Jackson stood below them.

"You'll know the house when we come to it," he began, looking directly at Lisa. "I'll stop in front of every house on that street, just to be safe. You'll load all of the normal garbage into the compartment you're standing in," he added with a smile. "Collins will pull on the lever to dump it into the main compartment, so you don't have to worry your pretty head about that. Now, when you pick up the money," he rested his hand on a smaller, obviously added, compartment at her feet, "this is where it'll go. To anyone watching, it will look like any other garbage run. Collins will pull the lever and we'll be off to the next house. Once we turn from that street, we'll cruise back here and send poor Christian back to Sister Dearest."

"Simple," Lisa said emptily.

"Simple," Jackson echoed. He turned to Collins. "Watch her. I'm not worried about her running off. But if there's any evidence that the police are involved--"

"Don't worry about it," Collins assured him, patting his gun again.

Jackson flicked his eyes back to Lisa.

"When this is over," he said, more quietly, "you're going to have a few choices to make." Lisa slipped the dust-particle mask over her mouth and nose.

"I know," she said as calmly as she could. Collins's lips twitched slightly. Jackson touched the underside of her jaw slightly with his finger.

"See you," he said.

He walked to the front of the truck, accompanied by a man that sounded like Robbins. Two men opened the front sliding doors of the warehouse, and the truck rumbled awake beneath them. Collins fastened his arm around the bar near his head. Lisa did the same. They rolled into the morning sunlight, and Lisa shielded her eyes. She hadn't seen the morning sun in nearly three days.

* * *

AN: . . . . -peeks out from under the desk- I am. . . ALIVE. I know it doesn't seem like it, but I am ALIVE! Okay, I've been really really ridiculously sick for a long time now, and I'm just now coming out of it. But that's not a reason for not updating for so long. So I prostrate myself before you and beg for forgiveness. I plead! Do not crucify me! It took me a long time to get the tone of this chapter down as well as I wanted to, and I still didn't get it exactly the way I wanted it, but they say the more you tweak with something the worse it gets. So here it is! The long-awaited party- I mean chapter! (kudos to anyone who gets that reference.) So, now that I'm back, it's time for shout-outs to my long-suffering fans!

**Ayumi Omoide:** Okay, one of the reasons I didn't update was because you hadn't reviewed. I look forward to your reviews maybe more than most, and I love to get reviews from you. So this one goes out to you, my friend! Hot with two t's? Scandalous! Jackson may be getting hotter with each progressive chappie, but I think my skillz are deteriorating. Oh well. Only aboot 2 chappies left! GASP! Here, have this lovely e-scone. If you find some e-tea, it will make a lovely snack. -plays with Jackson plushie- I LOVE YOU TOOO!

**Shadow in Darkness:** Huzzah! A new reader! Thanks so much for taking the time to review. It brings me much joy. I'm glad you enjoy the way I write, and I'm happy I can make your day just by writing. And yes, I love you too.

**Princess Stephy:** Augh, I loved that moment too, the visualisation of Jackson's hard exterior melting because of the feelings between them... So touching. I hope I'm able to delive some of the same emotions in this chappie, friend. Thanks for the review, and may you munch on e-scones!

**Ashley:** I'm not sure it's the best ever, but then again, I am a little biased. -bwahaha- Writing "teh smut" is just not something I would be comfortable with and thought, meh, they won't miss it. And, BTW, Miss Ashley, where the poo is your story? I'm-a cry if you don't update... No updates till you update! AUGH!. . . Sowwee... Got a little carried away. -tosses e-scones at you-

**hilby:** You crack me up! Good crack-me-up, not bad crack-me-up. Food pr0n? Interesting word choice. They got to eat a little bit, but not overly much. I take it Lisa was hungry but feeling a little too intimidated to eat. "Jackson had burst into song suddenly (which was rather amazing considering the damage Lisa had inflicted to his vocal chords), and ripping off her shirt in frustration, he found to his amazement words written across her chest... 'Christmastown?" he said. "Hm m m...'" Oh... My goodness... You... are a silly person who needs to be my best friend. -gives you special e-scone- Thankee for the review, friend!

**Rashida:** Oh, I am sooo glad I've been getting Jackson right. You are now my official "Tell Me if Jackson is Wrong" person. -gives you a pin-on badge- A chorus of angels? Sweeeet. I have the power to invoke heavenly beings. And I really don't mind long-winded reviews. I rather prefer them to the one-liners. Although I love one-liners still. Because I love everyone who reviews. ANYWAY thank you so much for reviewing, and I love you forever and here's a heaping pile of e-scones.

**A.R. Bellance:** I'd rather have your constructive criticism than 150 reviews of nothing but praise. It really does help when people tell me what I am doing wrong as well as what I could fix. I'm glad you still like it despite obvious flaws. And if you find some in this one, tell me so I can fix. I'm not exactly sure if this is a great chappie, so... YES! Much love to you, friend!

**LuningRavatic:** If you've really checked that many times, I am so sorry for not updating sooner! Ahh! Now I feel really bad. But I'm back! Hopefully I'll be able to keep up with myself now. "I'm just really, really hoping for an uber-fluffy morning-after scene." I hope I didn't disappoint in that respect in this chappie. Thanks much for your review and I hope I was able to keep the fire going! -gives e-scones-

**Shawcross Gal:** I'm glad you've finally started to review! Maybe this shoutout will keep up the good work -bwahaha- I'm glad you noticed Jackson's vulnerability when it comes to Lisa, because that was a major theme I tried to play up in this chappie. He melts when it comes to her. I'm glad you think I have him in character. Well, that's what everyone seems to think actually... Hmmm... Anyway, thanks much for the review and I hope you continue to enjoy what I churn out!

**steph88NYC:** Oh my, did I really make you tear up? Real LisaJackson? Oh wow, this makes me so happy! I'm sorry I moved you to saying "fnck". I love you too, friend, and I hope I'm able to keep up with the expectations everyone has of me by now. Help yourself to e-scones and I hope you enjoyed the chappie!

**Jack E. Peace:** Another one moved to tears? I can't be that good, can I? I'm so sorry that your night was bad, but I'm glad you were cheered up, no matter how slightly, by my little piece here. And I'm so glad that I didn't make Lisa the dumb!Lisa some fanfics make her. And I'm your hero? You're gonna steal me? AHH! -hides under the desk again- Happy reading, friend!

**DarkVerity:** Giggles abound, my friend. ABOUND. I hope I managed to capture the right feelings for the two after "the big bang" -tee hee- but if I didn't do so well, please tell me so I can fix it as soon as possible. Thanks for being awesome! -huggles- Oh yes, and have an e-scone.

That's it for shout outs! And rememebr, even if you don't get a shout-out, I still love you, all of you. I think this is the longest AN I've ever done. Wow... I might have added 1,000 words or more. I write too much. Anyway, I hope everyone enjoys the new chappie, and I'll try to update sooner next time. ADIOS AMIGOS! And enjoy!


	9. Devastation

**Chapter Nine: Devastation**

Even without the blindfold, Lisa did not know where she was. The truck pulled out with a low grumble, and Lisa watched the warehouse fade away. It was simply one of dozens of nondescript warehouses on a seaside wharf. No one could have asked her to pick it out of a line up. It just blended in, just as she was doing. She caught Collins's eye before the truck turned a corner. He had been staring back a the warehouse as well, the windows of his eyes allowing Lisa to peer, if only for a moment, into his tortured soul. She never told anyone what she saw there, in Collins's eyes. The truck turned a corner, and the warehouse was gone.

_I'm never going to see it again_, Lisa thought. It was a strange emotion, to miss the dark, dank, musty building with nothing but murderers and conspirators for her company. But as the warehouse disappeared from view, her heart sank. Collins saw this, and spoke directly to her for the first time.

"You have the look of someone that goes to their death," he said in a low, stoic tone. Lisa gazed, astonished, at the man, then bit her lower lip slightly. "I have seen my share of men that know their death is near. Mr. Rippner knows the look all too well, I think."

She caught his shuttered gaze, and all she could do was nod.

They drove through the country for only a precious five minutes before they reached the outskirts of a picturesque little town. She didn't catch the name. The town looked like any other anonymous Southern hamlet, decorated as if time had stopped in the middle of the Civil War. The only kink in the perfect picture of the 1840's were the blue jeans that bedecked the meandering teenagers, listening to their headphones as they browsed across the nearly vacant streets. Even the large courthouse, a central figure in the town, looked as if Stonewall Jackson himself might have made a rousing speech there.

Jackson made an unexpected sharp turn, and Lisa's hands slipped on the bar she had been gripping onto. The firm grasp of Collins's hand grabbed her just above the elbow before she could tumble into the street.

"Thank you," she said quietly. Her arm stung from where Collins's crushing fingers had grabbed her flesh. He simply nodded in return.

The truck had turned onto a secluded street shaded by lush green leaves of century-old trees. The brakes squealed to a halt before an old, whitewashed house. So it had begun. After a nod from Collins, Lisa hopped off the back of the truck, legs like nervous jelly under her. She spotted the garbage cans perched loyal as dogs at the curb. They weren't piled around the mailbox. This wasn't Christian's house. She grunted as she lifted the garbage bags into the main compartment of the truck, and Collins quickly activated the lever. The garbage had disappeared into the innards of the truck. Once the grinding had stopped, Jackson removed the brake and rolled forward to the next house.

So it continued for another seven houses on that side of the long, empty street. Lisa did the dirty work, Collins pulled the lever, and Jackson drove smugly on in the air-conditioned cab. She thought of the workout this must be giving her, then was shaken from her line of thought as Jackson pulled up to the next house. The black garbage bags were piled neatly around the mailbox, just as they should be. Lisa glanced nervously as Collins, who only gave her an encouraging nod. She hopped from the back of the truck.

The walk to the mailbox was longer than a trek through the Alaskan wilderness. She wondered blindly what would happen if she bolted for the nearest hedge. Collins would shoot her, that's what. Jackson had said the man was a dead shot. And Jackson never lied. But she knew she couldn't have run even if Collins didn't know the first thing about shooting a gun. Jackson's eyes were on her. She was powerless before those eyes.

So she walked on.

The bags were at her feet, and, as nonchalantly as she could manage, she bent down to pick up the bags full of two million dollars. She nearly cried out at their weight. She turned on heel toward the truck, heart leaping at the thought that they had almost pulled this off.

That was when the shooting started.

"_Get down_!" Collins's voice rang loudly, and he shoved her violently to the ground, covering her with himself. He cocked his gun and fired toward the house. Three shots and one deadly thud. Then Lisa heard a single shot from a car parked just behind the garbage truck, and a rain of hot blood splashed before her. Collins fell across her, dead from a bullet through his neck.

The next bang wasn't a bullet. It was the door to the truck. There was almost dead silence until Jackson's voice shattered the stillness.

"Lisa!"

More shots, this time coming from the front of the truck. Jackson was suddenly beside her pulling her to her feet. They stared frantically into each other's eyes for only one flighty instant before he blocked her from view of the nearby car and the house by using himself as a shield, sandwiching her between himself and the back of the truck. The money lay forgotten at their feet, slowly soaking up Collins's cooling blood.

The next bullet took out part of Jackson's shoulder, coating the back of the truck with his dark red blood. He stumbled forward, clutching the wound but unable to cry out. He pulled himself back to full height and began firing at the shooter that had killed Collins.

One shot. The windshield of the car was shattered into a spider web of crystal. Two shots and it was knocked completely out of its frame. Three shots and the driver fell dead over the steering wheel, blood flowing freely from the bullet hole in his forehead.

The engine of the truck bellowed to life, and Lisa clasped onto Jackson's uninjured shoulder. Jackson whirled just in time to see the garbage truck careen away down the street.

"ROBBINS!" He roared after it, though not daring to move and expose Lisa. He was cut off when a bullet from the house made him buckle at the knees. Lisa moved to catch him like a child falling from a bicycle.

"Jackso--" The bullet to her chest ended her cry. There was silence again as the blood spilled out over her hands and onto Jackson's as he tried frantically to stop her bleeding.

"Stop firing!" called a voice from another planet. "That's the hostage!"

"Lisa--" Jackson's agonized voice seemed separate from his body, hands still trying to stop the blood from her chest. The world waxed to black, and her last vision was of Jackson's blue eyes.

Vivid, frightened blue eyes.

* * *

She didn't remember how long the darkness had lasted. Glancing at her watch later, she would find that she had been in a light coma for ten days, and in-and-out of it for another three. She woke to the sound of a heart monitor. It was steady and slow. It took her nearly a full minute for her to realize that it was hers. Her vision was hazy, and she couldn't lift her arms to rub her eyes. She felt weak all over, but couldn't move to stretch herself. Finally, her vision focused.

Lisa was in a hospital. The smells of her visit to Jackson so long ago were back. The cleanness, the sterile-ness, all of them surrounded her. Then the smell of flowers.

She turned her head slowly and was assaulted by color in the white hospital room. Flowers and balloons decorated the room gaily. Even from her spot on the bed, she could read who they were from.

Lilies from her father. He knew they were her favorites. A stuffed bear with an embroidered heart was tied to the vase, along with colorful balloons that reached the ceiling. Next were the carnations from Cynthia. Both were very ironic, Lisa realized-- Lilies for chastity and carnations for mother's love. But she could forgive the carnations, for Cynthia most likely did not research flower meanings and was simply trying to be charitable.

Next were roses.

Red, white and pink roses in three vases were sitting directly beside her. No note, no card. But she knew who they were from. He was sitting right beside them.

His eyes were on hers, hands folded neatly in his lap, and legs stretched out before him, crossed at the ankles. Both were unblinking, even as he was silhouetted against the morning sun outside the window.

"She was my little sister," he said in a low voice. He moved a wisp of hair from his eyes and continued. "Her name was Vivian, but I called her Vivi. I was the only one allowed to call her Vivi." He paused for a moment, as if collecting himself. "She was six years younger than I was. And I was the over-protective older brother you might expect me to be." A ghost of a smile on his lips, then they fell again. "When she was six, and I was twelve, we lived on a farm."

Lisa almost smiled. She would never have imagined Jackson living on a farm. He didn't see her smile and continued.

"On her sixth birthday, I took her into the city to buy her something that would just knock her socks off. She'd never been to the city." A long pause again. Footsteps echoed in the hall. "I didn't know the city well enough, and we got lost. Before we knew it, it was dark and we were in the bad part of the city." He looked her dead in the eye, and her heart froze. "A drive-by shooter was aiming for the house behind us. Vivi was shot three times, I was hit once. Right here." He pointed to his upper thigh. His voice was suddenly thin and lifeless. "She bled to death in my arms. My name was her last word."

With that, Jackson pushed himself out of the chair and turned his back to Lisa, staring out the window.

"So, my answer is yes, Lisa," he said to the window. "I _do_ know what it's like to lose someone I care about. And I think I know a little bit more about it than you do. Who did you lose? Grandma Henrietta?" He whirled on her, and she was surprised to find that his eyes were soft on hers. "I lost my sister and my best friend. If I had never taken her out on her birthday--" He cut himself off and plopped down into the seat next to her. "If I hadn't made you make the pick-up--"

"Jackson," Lisa said suddenly, her voice a low rasp.

His head shot up. "What?" He asked. She allowed a pause.

"Shut-up."

There was a silence that wrapped the entire room, then one corner of his lips tugged up into a smile.

"What happened?" Lisa asked at last. Jackson untied the stuffed bear from the vase her father had given her.

"The idiot woman told the police about us. They found the warehouse and therefore Christian." He caught Lisa's concerned gaze, then added, "Don't worry, Leese, I have more than one hideout under my belt. You were taken to the nearest hospital and me to the nearest jail cell. But Jackson Rippner never stays in prison for long."

"Friends in high places," Lisa said quietly.

"Precisely," he confirmed. "Collins is dead, and they found Robbins, as well as the totaled garbage truck, in a burning heap on the freeway. You were in a coma for ten days." He ran a hand from her temple to her chin, then withdrew slightly.

"What?" Lisa asked.

He said nothing, only stared.

"I'm working on another job. Since the Christian Kenning fiasco, everything's been running smoothly at the company again."

"Kenning?" Lisa asked, the name suddenly striking a bell. "Christian Kenning is Audrey Kenning's brother? You kidnapped the Ohio Senator's brother?" If she'd had the strength enough to sit up in astonishment, she would have. Jackson nodded.

"I've done worse," he said casually. He gave the woman a short grin before standing again. "I have important business to attend to. Personal visits aren't really part of my contract."

"I'll see you again, won't I?" She asked, already knowing the answer.

"Lisa," he said lowly, "you'll find it hard to keep me away from you." He walked to the foot of her bed where her chart was clipped. He picked it up shortly and inspected it. Lisa was surprised to see his face go pale.

"What is it?" Lisa asked. Jackson glanced up from the clipboard without a word, then headed to the window. "Jackson," she urged, "what's wrong?" He was practically hanging out the window before he tossed the clipboard back at her feet.

"You're pregnant," he said just before lowering himself out of sight.

Lisa stared into the blankness the man had previously occupied, staring with uncomprehending eyes at where he should have been. Footsteps drew closer to her door, and before long, her father was walking through the door to meet her wide, tear-brimmed eyes. He nearly jumped from his skin.

"Lisa!" He was suddenly at her side.

"Dad," she managed at last.

She fell into his wide embrace and cried.

* * *

AN: Well... Yeah. Another late update. I should be flayed alive for this, I know. But yeah, at least it was a good chapter, right? Right? -sigh- Well, one reason it was late is because I had a harsh breakup recently and all creativity left me. But now I'm back! There's one more chapter after this one, maybe more if I can be persuaded. But the main action is already over, so more story might need a sequel. But there's definitely an epilogue next, so don't worry guys and gals. And now, some special announcements!

**hilby:** I never really thought of Jackson/Cillian as Kirk-esque. I'll have to watch Red Eye again at the bargain cinema to check it out. -bwahaha- As for who Collins is, I kinda see him as a Hugh Laurie type of guy. Charismatic, although not attractive to everyone (but he sure is attractive to me!) If you don't know who he is, you can look him up on www . imdb . com . Great site. And as for all the crazy things that aren't s'posed to be hot, I'll let you know I totally thought the jumpsuits were hot. "Jeezum crow, you're like my most favorite in life ever." Not only did you use my fave exclaimation ever (jeezum crow) but I am a favorite! Yaay! I lerv you! Here is some lovely e-radishes for you! Much love!

**Ashley: **I love the way Jackson reacts along with what he says, because so much of who he is is in his body language. And, hey, wouldn't you be gettin' it on every chance you could if Jackson was there to be gotten on with? Oh, and I hope you like my take on some of Jackson's past here. I had an idea before I went to sleep one night and just ran with it. And it is coming to a close, but after the epilogue, I might be able to be pushed into a sequel if anyone wants it. Have an e-radish! LERV!

**Ayumi Omoide:** AGH! Don't kill me! I lerv you! -coaxes you into placidness with an e-radish- I'm loving possessive!Jackson and poor unsure!Lisa. It is very much fun for me to write. As for being one of the best, I'm still not so sure. I mean, I like it, but I'm a bit biased. And I can't help but be kind to those who are so kind to me. So don't think I'll suddenly be un-nice as long as others aren't un-nice to me. Here, this e-radish will make you un-e-fat. And as for Cillian's new movie... All I can say is... He makes a pretty girl. Much much love from me and Jackson plushie!

**Shadow in Darkness:** I just adore forehead love. It's one of the best and most simple displays of affection I think there is. So I need it. Lots of it. Bwahaha. Don't kill yourself! I'm here! It has been updated! And the promise of more to come! Have an e-radish and stay for a while!

**Scorching Reality:** About the love/hate... I think some of the hate melted away when they realized that they really couldn't live without each other. But I'm planning on having more tension in the epilogue, so yeah. I hope your day is made yet again, because I finally updated! Yaay! I hope this chappie is up to snuff!

**signs fan:** I'm glad you like my version of Jackson, and I hope I haven't messed him up in this chapter. I kinda made him a little mushy here, but hopefully I'll be able to pick up the threads later. Thank you so much for your reviews, all of them, even if I haven't had a chance to give you a shout-out yet. Have an e-radish and party, my friend!

That's it as shout-outs go, and I hope I didn't kill anyone with the wait. I'm hoping of having the last chappie up relatively soon, but I can, unfortunately, make no promises. Love and e-radishes to everyone who reviewed, even if I don't give you a shout-out. Peace to everyone and happy reading!


	10. Culmination

**Chapter Ten: Culmination**

She managed to keep a nearly normal life. Her job at the Lux Atlantic remained as steady and as prolific as it had always been. Her apartment was as cozy and as blue as it had always been. Her father still called her every night to check up on her. The only difference now was Jackson.

She never quite found the words to tell her father how she had come to carry Jackson's child. As far as he knew, she had been raped again, although she refused to say more on the subject other than who the father was. As the months went by, her stomach became rounder and her smile fuller. Cynthia told her that she was the most beautiful mother she'd ever seen.

Jackson would surprise her with visits to her apartment. She would unlock the door, place the groceries on the kitchen counter and walk into the living room, where she would find Jackson sitting with legs crossed in the comfortable arm chair, nose stuck into a different book every visit. One night it was The Grapes of Wrath, and some night the next week it might be He's Just Not That Into You. There was no predicting Jackson, and Lisa figured that was the way he liked to be perceived.

And after a night of rolling together as one beneath her sheets they would lay silently, one might almost say calculatingly. Jackson might tell Lisa what job he was on this week, anywhere from plotting assassinations in Africa to scouting out a new location to hide his lackeys. He knew that he could trust her now, but how far was yet to be tested.

One night in particular, Lisa's fourth month to give a closer estimation, she forced Jackson to face her as she asked, "Are you going to ask me to marry you?" His answer was a quick, almost scathing laugh sealed with a long kiss. She woke up the next morning to an empty bed and a ring set with a shining diamond on her nightstand. She wore the ring, and the fiery stares from passers-by, accusing her with their eyes of being another stupid single mother, slowly ceased. She still couldn't bring herself to wear it around her father.

The questions did crop up about the ring and about her nights in captivity. Had she been tortured? Did she know he had escaped from prison? Was she afraid that if he'd kidnapped her twice, a third time wouldn't be out of the question? Whose ring was it? Did the father run out on her? When did she have the time to get pregnant?

When the questions pressed down on her too hard to bear, she finally went to her father. She told him everything. The kidnapping, the murder of Gerard, the ransom call, the first kiss-- and that she had shared a bed with Jackson. As she told him, she felt the old fear, the old hate resurface, and she shook all over, reveling in her father's warm embrace. He didn't say anything for the longest time, and Lisa wasn't sure whether that was better or worse than any harsh words. In the end, he kissed her on the forehead and asked if she had seen Jackson after he had escaped from prison. She couldn't lie. He asked if she was going to keep the baby. She said yes. He kissed her forehead again.

She could wear the ring after that.

Jackson never mentioned marriage, and she knew that she would never have said yes even if he did. She knew Jackson too well to think he might even consider it. The ring was a formality, nothing more. She could never had married him-- some of the fear remained in her, too much to share a life with him; he would never settle to one place, and the three of them would always be on the lam; conmen don't marry: they're married to their jobs-- they were too different for marriage. But he continued to appear intermittently at her apartment, and she continued to invite him to her bed.

After another month, she told him that she thought it unsafe to continue their "habits" in fear of what might happen to the baby. She was surprised that Jackson took the news badly. She didn't see him for another four weeks. During the weeks of solitude, Lisa began pulling out the Baby Name Books, half wanting to seriously look for names and half to giggle at the ridiculous names that started with "U." She was reading through one of the books when Jackson returned after his long absence.

He stood at the open window, silent and staring with arms folded across his chest. There was a line of blood running from his temple to his chin. She glanced up from the book, halfway through the T's. His face was a mix of emotions-- anger, which she was used to, stubbornness, and also a tiny hint of something akin to guilt.

"How is she?" Jackson asked at last, his voice almost staccato in the cold air drifting in from the open window. Lisa looked away, back to the baby names.

"How are you so sure that it's a she?" She asked as calmly as she could. As much as she hated him for leaving her alone, she wanted him close and tangible beside her. But she didn't let this on, of course.

"I was there for your ultrasound," he said quietly. He still hadn't lost the last of his rasp. "You like the names Dawn, Celina and Robin. Your Daddy Dearest still calls you every night. And you cry when you look at the ring."

Lisa gave a humorless dry laugh.

"You're still watching me," she said with a hint of sadness. "Keeping tabs to make sure I don't rat you out?"

He let the silence soak in.

"How is she?" He asked again. Lisa ran her hand over her bulging stomach.

"She's fine."

Another uneasy silence coated them, and Lisa looked down to the baby names to avoid the shaking in her hands.

"I got these for her," Jackson said at last. Lisa looked up as Jackson reached into his pocket to reveal three classical CDs: Mozart, Vivaldi and Beethoven. "It's supposed to be good for babies to listen to Mozart." He walked over to place them on the arm of the chair next to her. He lingered, and Lisa produced a kitchen towel seemingly from thin air to wipe the blood from his face.

"Don't die, Jackson," Lisa's voice caught, staring at the torn skin at the edge of his scalp. He looked up suddenly at the concern in her voice. "She needs a father, even if it's only once and a while." Jackson studied her face, then darted in to kiss her.

"I think I can do that," he said after breaking contact. He was climbing back out of her window before she could find her voice to say goodbye.

That was her sixth month.

The cold deepened as the winter tore on. Jackson's visits were few and far-between. One night he came to her with blood soaking the front of his white shirt, blazer torn to shreds and nearly half of his right ear missing. He nearly collapsed after stepping through her window. The pregnant woman dragged him to the bed and cleaned and dressed his wounded ear as best she could. The blood on his shirt seemed foreign for the most part, but a long knife cut from navel to mid-torso took the longest to clean. Every few hours she checked his wounds and changed his bandages throughout the night. They slept in the same bed again, but Lisa's mind was far from pleasure. When she woke, he was gone again.

She had her baby in April. The rains were long and hard that spring, and there was no exception on that day. She was at lunch with her father when the contractions started. They were at the hospital in less than ten minutes. She was lucky: her labor was quick, though definitely not painless. In those two hours of labor, she cursed Jackson, the day she met him, what he'd done to her. But the cry of the healthy baby brought tears of joy to her parched eyes. It was her child, and she brought it into the world. It was hers to love and care for, hers -- and Jackson's.

As she cradled the child in her arms, watching it breathe with each moment, loving it more each time, she saw that the baby had Jackson's wide blue eyes. She had Jackson's black hair, although the newborn only bore tiny wisps. It had Lisa's nose however, and tiny baby lips. She had the nurse bring in a small CD player and they listened to Jackson's Mozart CDs until the both of them fell asleep.

They got to go home the very next day. Lisa had converted the guestroom of her two-room apartment into the baby's nursery, painted in a soft neutral yellow. Lisa never liked the stereotype of "pink-for-girls, blue-for-boys." The crib was soft and downy, every sharp corner padded lovingly with cloth and rubber. The mobile was of clouds and rainbows, twirling overhead the sleeping child. Lisa watched her quietly, as if in awe. She knew he was there before he stepped forward into the light.

"How is she?" He asked. It was his question, asked at almost every visit. He tried his best to sound uninterested, utterly failing. Lisa smiled at the newborn before turning to its father.

"She's fine," was all Lisa said. Jackson stared at the crib, unable to see his child from his vantage point. And yet, he seemed unable to move any closer. He ran a hand across is forehead, fingers touching the scar at his hairline.

"What-" He broke off, as if catching his breath. "What did you decide on for her name?"

Lisa looked almost lovingly at the man, then took his hand in her own,pulling him slowlytoward the crib. He stared down into it, at his daughter.

"Vivian," Lisa told him.

Jackson could find no words, biting his lower lip ever so slightly. His grip on Lisa's hand intensified, but she didn't care. She leaned her head against his neck, wanting nothing but to fall asleep with him beside her once again. He tensed, leaning forward to peer into the crib. Vivian was sleeping soundly.

"Could I . . ." His hesitancy brought Lisa's eyes back to his. "Could I hold her?"

Lisa watched the swirling, hidden emotions in his eyes, then nodded slowly. She reached delicately into the crib and relinquished the tiny Vivian from its grip. She didn't wake, though she stirred. Jackson held out his arms, looking to Lisa for direction.

"Make sure to hold her head and neck up," she said softly. "Cradle her head in your elbow and hold her bottom with your other hand." Jackson opened his cradling arms and was suddenly holding the tiny, fragile baby.

His face changed then, softened. Lisa told herself that she had never seen that face before, but she knew that she had. The moment after Jackson had shot Gerard, when he sat beside her, held her, stroked her hair-- He wanted to protect her. As Jackson watched the sleeping child in his arms, Lisa knew that he wanted and needed to protect the girl. Just as he wanted and needed to protect his sister. He slowly turned his back to Lisa and the crib, just watching the little girl. Then came his voice, low and almost sad.

"_And I, Jack, the Pumpkin King,_

_Have grown so tired of the same old thing._"

He sang the entire song for his little girl. She never once woke up.

Jackson stayed that night. And he was still there when Lisa woke.

* * *

AN: Last... Chapter... OMG, I think I might die. But, yeah, the reason I'm ending this story early is because the point of this story was to tell about Lisa and Jackson falling in lerv and all that good stuff, not about what happens later. And I ended this chapter so quickly because I didn't want to drag out her pregancy because that would get very very boring. I hope this wasn't dissapointing to anyone, but, then again, I can't please everyone. BUT! A great majority of you have asked for a sequel, and I think I shall do just that thing! So, I'll start writing the sequel today! If anyone has any ideas they'd like to impart, they can tell me via review. And I hope I don't upset anyone... -weeps- ANYWAY! Some special announcements:

**hilby:** My whole family comes from a farm in Ohio, so I know all aboot creepy country folk. And I'm sowwee I killed off Collins. It had to be done. I don't think I made it evident, but in my mind he had a little crush on Lisa. That's why he shoved her to the ground and saved her from falling and whatnot. Poor guy. Just wanted some lovin'. I wish I had candy. I'll jus have to steal some from my 3-year-old brother. Bwahaha. Hope you enjoyed this chappie! I'm handing out belated Halloween e-candy, so have an e-Resee's! Much love!

**signs fan:** Hooray! That's what I was trying to get across was that Lisa is the only person who can wear him down like that. Mine isn't one of the longer fics (some have 25+ chappies!) but I'm glad to see I'm one of the only ones who's thought to give her a baby. Thanks foryour reviews, and I hope you enjoy this last installment of Taken! Have an e-Reese's!

**katanaXfire:** I thank you muchly for going out of your way to review. A lot of people say that this is one of the best fics out there, and I'm really flattered, even if I'm not so sure about that. My faves list has some pretty great ones. But yeah. Hehehe... Pile/pyramid of reviews. That's a great metaphor. Thanks again, and I hope you like the ending I've cooked up here. Help yourself to my stash of e-halloween candy.

**Trentaholic:** The thing I hate is when fics drag on forever and ever and never end or even culminate in the broadest sense. I didn't want this fic to do that so I wrapped it up when it felt like it needed to end. After all, the main conflict that needed to be solved was the feelings between Lisa and Jackson. And won't this baby be just the most adorable thing with two adorable parents? I can't stand the cuteness! I'm-a cook up a sequel for you, my friend! I hope you liked the wrap-up and don't crucify me! Have some e-candy, friend! Happy reading!

**A.R. Bellance:** Don't belittle yourself! I take all adivce to heart, even if I don't employ all of it. I totally see your meaning and I don't take any offence by it at all. I, too, feel as if I needed more substance but couldn't find any in my ravaged brain. And you may feel I rushed Lisa's pregancy too, but as I said above, I pretty much wanted to skip all of the boring parts and get onto the stuff that mattered. It is an epilogue after all. But I am listening whenever someone gives constructive critisism, so you just keep on keepin' on, friend. Despite being a tad rushed, I hope you enjoy the finale!

**Ashley:** If our updating rounds are so synchronized, you'd better be updating soonly my good friend. Just kidding. I'd hoped to get across the feeling at Jackson wants to protect Lisa. (I think it'll play a big part in the sequel) It's kinda his thing, like he _has_ to protect her, like he can't_ not_ protect her. I don't know how else to word it... I hope I don't sound like an idiot when I said that... But yeah, little Vivi has to be the cutest baby ever. I decree it so. Have some e-candy from Halloween, my friend, and I hope to see a new chappie of yours up soonly! Much love!

**Jack E. Peace:** Best? Are you sure? Hmm... Well, thank you so very much! I was hoping to just mess up everyone's minds with Lisa getting shot and the role-reversal in the hospital and all that jazz. I hope the wait wasn't too long on this chapter, and I'm hoping it won't be too long to wait on the sequel since most are asking for one. I won't make you wait forever, I promise! Much love and e-candy to you, friend!

And to everyone who didn't get a shout-out-- I LOVE YOU! Reviews are what keeps me going sometimes, and every single review I got through the entire process really gave me a booster. I give tremendous props to all of you and I hope that this little fic hasn't been too terrible for y'all to get through. Again, I so totally love everyone who reads, reviews, what-have-you. I hope to drag most of you along to the sequel, but if I don't: It was a fun ride and I loved having you all along. Much love to everyone. Happy reading!

The Shoeless One


End file.
